#thank you anon I love you did you know that

[mssishipi]

devil in disguise - sjy

anon asked: infidelity with jake would go crazy bro like he’d be saying ���you’re so disgusting” and it’s true it disgusts him how his bestfriend’s pussy milks his cock

warning: cheating, jake is an asshole, explicit content (smut): unprotected sex, degradation. MDNI.

It was almost laughable—how you always clung to Jake's side, no matter what he did, no matter how much trouble he got himself into. It was as if loyalty blinded you, shielding you from the truth everyone else could see so clearly.

You were an angel, the one his parents adored, the soft-hearted girl who couldn't even bring herself to harm a fly.

Polite, gentle, the kind of person who would apologize even when someone else stepped on your foot.

It was hilarious how you always had an excuse for him, always a justification on the tip of your tongue every time he do something.

Like that time when he got into a fight because of some fraternity nonsense. His parents had been furious.

And yet, there you were, standing in front of them, your eyes wide, your voice trembling with conviction.

"Jake defended me!"

Except that was a lie.

Jake hadn't been defending you. He don't care. The guy had simply pissed him off. He always did. It had nothing to do with you, but you refused to see that. Maybe it was easier that way—to pretend Jake had some noble reason, that his fists weren't just another weapon he wielded whenever he felt like it.

It was almost amusing—the way you always listened to him, how you followed him around ever since the two of you were kids.

You were the kind of best friend who never strayed too far, always orbiting around him, always there. He wasn't sure if he should find it endearing or just plain irritating. Maybe a bit of both.

He could do the most questionable things, and without fail, you'd always have his back.

"Thank you, Jaeyun-ah! You know I don't like Jungwon—he's always ranked first. He deserves to be caught cheating."

You grinned at him, clutching your notebook to your chest as if he had done you some great favor. But Jake hadn't done it for you. He hadn't even thought of you when he slipped that answer key into Jungwon's bag. He was just bored, looking for something to break the monotony. Watching the teachers drag Jungwon to the disciplinary office had simply been an added bonus.

"It's okay, Jaeyun-ah! What you're feeling is valid. I'm sure Yuta deserved that punch—he's a creep."

You had been so quick to reassure him. But Yuta wasn't a creep. Jake had made that up on a whim, an excuse to put the guy in his place, to see him crumble. Because he was bored.

It was almost amusing—how you, of all people, always knew the difference between right and wrong. You were kind, the type to preach fairness, to stand up for what was just.

And yet, when it came to him, all of that fell apart. You always had an excuse, always a justification ready on your lips, as if his actions existed outside the rules that applied to everyone else.

Sim Jaeyun had you wrapped around his finger so effortlessly, it was pathetic.

And honestly, it was disgusting.

"Jaeyun-ah!" you squealed, your voice breaking into a moan as your fingers dug into his back, clinging to him. Your breath hitching as he hit that spot over and over again.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. His phone buzzed relentlessly on the bedside table, the screen flashing with his girlfriend's name. Over and over, the call came, the shrill ring cutting through the muffled sound of skin slapping against skin. But neither of you moved. Neither of you cared.

It was disgusting—how easily you spread your legs for him, how willingly you became his escape whenever she couldn't satisfy him. You never hesitated, never even flinched when he came to you, already knowing what he wanted.

He still loved his girlfriend. With everything he had. But she could never give him the kind of mind-numbing, toe-curling release that you did.

"It's in a man's nature, Jaeyun-ah," you had whispered to him once, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over his bare chest, your body still warm from the aftermath of what you had just done. Your voice always had been soft and sweet. "Men have needs. It's only natural to seek satisfaction elsewhere when she can't give you what you want."

Jake remembered those words vividly, the way you had said them with such certainty, as if you truly believed them. As if your presence in his bed, tangled in his sheets, was anything but a betrayal.

"Maybe it's even her fault," you had added, tilting your head to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "She should know better. She should do better. If she really loved you, wouldn't she try harder to make you happy?"

Your justifications were always so effortless, so convincing. You never made him feel guilty, never accused him of being selfish or cruel. Instead, you framed it like you were the only one who truly understood him, the only one who could give him what he needed without judgment.

It was painfully obvious that you were in love with him.

And it disgusted him.

Every longing glance, every adoring smile, every saccharine word that spilled from your lips—it all made his skin crawl.

Yet, despite the repulsion twisting in his gut, he kept coming back. Again and again. Because at the end of the day, you were the only one who truly understood him. The only one who never judged, never asked for more than he was willing to give.

"I said don't give me marks!" Jake growled as he grabbed your wrists, prying your hands off his back where your nails had been sinking into his skin.

Without giving you a chance to react, he shoved you down, caging you beneath him. His arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders, trapping your limbs against your sides as his weight pressed into you. His knees planted firmly on either side of your thighs, bracing himself as he drove deeper, making you take every inch of him.

The bed creaked beneath you, the room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, your ragged breaths mixing with his.

And despite the way he loathed the way you looked at him, despite how much your affection disgusted him—he still couldn't stop.

"You love fucking like this?" Jake growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he drove into you with unrelenting force.

"Yes! Fuck, I love your cock inside me, Jaeyun-ah! Fuck me harder!" you sobbed, your voice breaking with each thrust. Your mind was drowning in the pleasure he ruthlessly forced upon you.

Jake exhaled sharply, his breath ragged as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His arms tightened around you, locking you in place beneath him. He didn't give you a second to breathe, because your body was nothing more than a means to chase his own satisfaction.

Jake groaned as he felt you clench around him, your walls tightening, desperately trying to keep him buried deep. The way your body surrendered so easily, so pathetically. It was hilarious, how little self-control you had when it came to him.

"You fucking disgust me," he sneered. His thrusts never slowed as he tilted his head slightly, watching the way your face twisted in pleasure, eyes glazed over, lips parted as broken moans spilled from your throat.

"Getting off on your best friend’s cock? That’s just pathetic."

You shook your head wildly, fingers clawing at his back, legs trembling around his waist. "I don’t care!" you gasped, "just want you, Jaeyun-ah! Just want your cock—please!"

Jake let out a breathy chuckle, "Of course, you don’t," he muttered. His teeth grazed your shoulder before he bit down, hard, marking you. Your body jerked beneath him, a sharp whimper escaping your lips as he tightened his grip on your waist, pressing you impossibly closer, molding you against him like you were made to take him.

Your tongue traced the ridges of his collarbone, wet and hot, leaving a trail of saliva as if you wanted to claim him just as much. Jake hissed, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, his pace turning brutal. His name tore from your lips in screams, your body writhing, thrashing, but his arms locked around you, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

And then, without warning, your orgasm crashed over you—sudden, violent, leaving you gasping, eyes rolling back as your body went rigid beneath him. No slow build-up, no warning. Just raw, overwhelming pleasure that left you completely undone.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through you, leaving your body trembling beneath him, Jake didn’t slow. If anything, he fucked you through it, dragging out every last bit of your high until you were left whimpering, overstimulated, body twitching against his pace.

"Look at you," he scoffed as he watched your fucked-out expression. "Completely ruined over your best friend’s cock. What would your parents think if they saw you like this?"

Your lips parted, but only breathless moans escaped.

Jake chuckled darkly, his pace faltering just long enough for him to grab your chin, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his. "And what about my girlfriend?"  he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. "She has no idea you’re spreading your legs for me every time she turns her back. That you’re nothing but a cheap fuck whenever she can’t satisfy me."

For a split second, he saw that pathetic flicker of sadness in your gaze. But Jake didn’t care.

Because he knew you. Knew the way you worked. No matter how much he degraded you, no matter how cruel his words got, you would always come crawling back. Always.

Because that’s who you were.

Jake pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping at the sudden emptiness. His hands were rough, impatient, as he flipped you over, manhandling you into the position he wanted. You barely had a moment to react before he shoved your face down against the mattress, pressing hard against the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

"Stay still," he muttered, his other hand gripping your hip, lifting your ass high in the air.

You barely had time to process the shift before the sharp buzz of his phone filled the room again, the sound coming from the bedside table. His jaw ticked in irritation, but he didn’t reach for it. Instead, he lined himself up with your entrance, cursing under his breath.

Then, without warning, he thrust back inside.

Another scream tore from your lips, your fingers scrambling against the sheets, trying to ground yourself as the force of his movements sent shocks of pleasure and pain coursing through you. Your walls fluttered around him instinctively, struggling to adjust to the new angle, but he didn’t slow down.

"Tighten up," Jake growled. "Feels like I’m just fucking my fist."

You clenched around him immediately, an attempt to please him, but the effort only made your body tremble harder. Your vision blurred as fresh tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks, soaking into the sheets beneath you.

Jake noticed. His fingers tangled into your hair, yanking your head up, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were glassy, lips trembling, breath coming in short, shaky gasps.

"Aww," Jake cooed mockingly, tilting his head as his grip on your hair tightened. His fingers twisted cruelly in the strands, yanking your head back until your neck arched, forcing your tear-streaked face into view. "Is my sweet angel hurt?"

You sniffled, trying to steady your breath, but the way he kept thrusting into you made it impossible to think, let alone speak. Your fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles turning white as your body rocked in time with his brutal pace.

And then you smiled—soft, sweet, broken. The kind of expression you knew would make something dark flicker in his eyes.

"I don't care, Jaeyun-ah," you whispered, your gaze met his, unwavering despite the tears threatening to spill. "That's my purpose, right?"

His reaction was instant. A low growl rumbled in his chest, and without hesitation, he shoved you back down, pressing your face into the mattress. The force knocked the air from your lungs, but you still moaned.

Jake cursed under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts turned erratic. You could feel it—the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his breath grew uneven, muscles tensing. He was close.

"Fuck, I trained my angel so well," he grunted, punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your ass. The impact stung, a sharp burst of pain that made you whimper. His moans were growing louder, more desperate, the telltale signs of his impending climax.

"That's right, Jake!" you cried out, voice breaking. "Make yourself cum in me—your fucking boring girlfriend could never!"

The second those words left your lips, his hand shot forward, slapping over your mouth and muffling your moans.

"Shut the fuck up," Jake growled. His other hand dug into your hip, his grip so tight you knew there’d be bruises tomorrow. "You don’t get to talk about her. Don’t fucking ruin my orgasm by running that filthy mouth of yours."

A sharp, burning twist coiled in your chest at his words. But at the same time, the thick drag of his cock against your cervix make your walls clamped down around him, squeezing so tight it forced a strangled moan from his throat.

"Fuck—" Jake groaned, his head falling forward against your back, breath ragged, body tensed as his thrusts turned erratic. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you locked in place as he chased his release. "I'm gonna cum, angel."

A strangled sound tore from his throat, his grip bruising as he drove himself deep one last time. And then, with a low, guttural moan, he spilled inside you.

The heat of it, the way he pulsed and twitched against your walls, sent you spiraling instantly. Your orgasm hit violent, all-consuming, crashing through you with no mercy. Euphoria flooded every nerve, burning through your veins, leaving you boneless beneath him.

You gasped, lips parted in a silent cry, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure wracked through you. It felt endless, like falling through space with no ground to catch you, no way to stop.

Jake groaned again, feeling the way your walls fluttered and clenched around him, milking every last drop from his spent cock. He twitched, giving a few more lazy thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you, pushing past the oversensitivity that made your thighs shake and your breath stutter.

Slowly, his pace lost momentum, his thrusts turning shallow, sluggish, until finally, he stilled. His weight pressed against you as he exhaled heavily, letting the last remnants of pleasure fade into exhaustion.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the sweat cooling on your flushed skin, the lingering heat of what you’d just done.

And then, as the high began to ebb, as the last shocks of pleasure melted into nothingness, the emptiness settled in.

A hollow ache replaced the euphoria, leaving you nothing more than a trembling, used mess sprawled out beneath him.

Jake let out a slow, heavy breath as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, his body still humming with the remnants of release. The warmth of you still clung to his skin, but he didn’t spare you a glance as he pulled out, leaving a mess between your trembling thighs.

Grabbing his phone from your bedside table, he stared at the screen, scrolled through the flood of missed calls and unread messages. The screen illuminated his face, jaw tightening slightly before he sighed, thumbs moving quickly to type a response.

Your gaze followed him, watching as he moved around the room without hesitation. He didn’t look at you—not even once—as he grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor, slipping his jeans back on, adjusting his belt with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

The scent of sex still clung to his skin, and he knew it. Without pause, he reached for the bottle of cologne he always carried, spritzing it over himself, masking the evidence of what had just happened between you.

You were still sprawled out on the bed, your chest pressed against the damp sheets, your body aching, marked, used. 

"I gotta get home before she starts getting suspicious," Jake muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

But before leaving, he paused at the door, casting a dark stare over his shoulder. His expression hardened, his voice colder.

"Shut your mouth. You already know that, don’t you?"

You swallowed thickly, throat tightening as you forced a small, obedient "Yes."

For a moment, there was nothing. Just silence stretching between the two of you, thick and suffocating. Then, as if flipping a switch, Jake’s entire demeanor shifted. A slow, sickeningly sweet smile spread across his lips as he turned back toward you.

Walking over, he crouched slightly to meet your tired gaze, brushing a few damp strands of hair from your face before pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. The gesture was soft—mockingly so.

"See you next time, angel. Don’t do something stupid, hmm?" His voice was gentle, almost affectionate, like he actually cared.

And like the fool you were, you smiled at him, nodding eagerly despite the rawness in your throat, despite the soreness in your body.

Jake exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as he watched you. "My good girl."

Leaning in once more, he pecked your lips, his touch featherlight, almost tender. But beneath it, there was nothing. No warmth, no real emotion. Just obligation.

It was a role he played, a meaningless act that kept you tethered to him. And seeing you smile so sweetly, so utterly oblivious—it made his stomach twist with something akin to revulsion.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Jake let out a slow, irritated breath, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off something unpleasant.

Without sparing a second thought, he pulled out his phone, thumbs scrolling through his girlfriend’s messages.

You had always stood by Sim Jaeyun’s side—through every mistake, every decision, every selfish impulse. You defended him when no one else would, gave him everything without hesitation. It didn’t matter what he did; you always understood, always forgave, always stayed.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, nails digging so deep into the fabric they nearly tore through it. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

You stared at the door he had just walked out of, the one he never even bothered to look back at.

You let a quiet breathy laugh—before it bubbled up into hysterical and unhinged. Tears streamed freely down your face.

"His angel, my ass."

The words dripped from your tongue. a wicked little smile curling on your lips.

You had always been there for him. Always the loyal one. Always the perfect, obedient little toy he could use and toss aside when it was convenient. You had let him take and take and take.

Your gaze flickered to the ceiling, to the tiny red light blinking faintly in the dark.

You were his angel, after all. His good girl. So predictable, so harmless.

How cute.

You tilted your head as your nails dragged lazily across your own thigh, smearing the mess he left behind.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Because, Sim Jaeyun did not, in fact, train his angel well.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Hi , first of all congratulations on 100+ followers I discovered you recently and u have already become among my top favorite writers. Smooching your brain. ❤️ I would love if u write on prompt #5 because I am dying for some comfort ...😅 Keep writing for as long as you can you I love your writing. Stay strong and healthy.🤍

Thank you, anon!! It's such an honor to be one of your favorite authors. I'm sorry I took so long to post this. I hope you still need some comfort. Stay strong and healthy too 💜🤭

This is from my prompt list. Pick a number and send it to my asks.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: skinship (okay, a lot of touching), suggestive-ish

Alexa, play Confessions by Flo Rida & ENHYPEN

Drunk confessions when he comes home drunk (feat. Bang Chan)

Chan practically dragged Hyunjin up your front steps, both of them laughing as Hyunjin leaned heavily on his shoulder, “He’s completely legless”, Chan said with a grin, easing him into your arms. You blinked, “Legless?”. Chan chuckled, “It means drunk. Really, really drunk. You’ll manage. Good luck!”. And just like that, he vanished, leaving you with an overly affectionate, mumbling Hyunjin pressing his face into your neck like a sleepy cat.

You guided him toward the bedroom, stumbling every few steps as he clung to you with a surprising strength. “You’re heavy”, you grumbled, pushing him down onto the bed. “I feel light as air”, he said, slurring slightly, arms spread out dramatically across the mattress. You rolled your eyes, kneeling to untie his shoes and slide off his jacket. Then your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and you hesitated for a second. He was flushed, warm, and clearly uncomfortable in all those layers. You were just helping, that was all

Even so, you couldn’t help but think that his body was... art. His bare chest was rising and falling slowly, collarbones catching the soft light, abdomen flexing slightly when he shifted, revealing the delicate curve of muscle and skin. You swallowed. You’d seen him shirtless before, but somehow this felt more intimate— more vulnerable. And something about it made your breath catch.

Just as your fingers brushed his waistband, Hyunjin cracked one eye open, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips, “Already trying to take my clothes off, huh?”. You roll your eyes, flustered,“You’re drunk. And “I’m just helping you get comfortable, dumbass”. He hums, head tilting as he gazes at you with that teasing look typical of him, “Too bad… I already have a girlfriend”.

You play along, lips curling.You narrowed your eyes, matching his playful tone, “Oh, yeah? Who is she?”. He closed his eyes again, smiling softly, “She’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Has this laugh that makes my heart do this weird fluttery thing. Always puts her cold feet on me at night, says it’s revenge. But I’d do anything for her”. Your heart pounded, a silly smile grew on your lips, “She sounds lucky”. “She’s mine”, he said quietly, like it was a vow, “And I’m hers”.

Your heart melts, the atmosphere shifting into something more tender. You help him settle into the covers, but as you lean in to fix his pillow, his hand brushes your thigh. It lingers just a second too long, “I bet she’d like it if you stayed right here,” he murmurs, voice low and heavy with affection. You laugh, your cheeks warm, “Hyunjin…”. But his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer until your legs tangled under the covers. His lips brushed your shoulder— not quite a kiss, but not nothing either. You could feel his breath against your skin. “Just to hold you. That’s all. I want to feel you close”, he admitted. So you laid down beside him. But that wasn’t the end.

Your heartbeat quickened as his fingers danced along the edge of your shirt, the lightest touch just barely brushing your skin, “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, the words coming out quietly, “Why would you stop?”. “Did you know”, he whispered, voice dipped in sleep and desire, “That you drive me crazy when you look at me like that?” “Like what?” “Like I’m more than a drunk idiot in your bed” “Well, you are more than a drunk idiot in my bed”. Hyunjin’s lips curled into a smile, and before you knew it, his hand was tracing the curve of your bare waist, soft and warm. He tugged you gently toward him, his face inches from yours. His breath, warm and intoxicating, mixed with yours, and you could feel the tension building in the air. You could sense something building between the two of you— something that made your stomach flip.

And yet, despite how close you were, he didn’t push it further. He let his fingers wander lazily across your back, pushing the fabric of your shirt higher, but never quite enough to expose you completely. His touch was gentle, as if he was savoring every moment of this closeness, “I think we should sleep”, he whispered, but there was a slight tremor in his voice now, as if even he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back. “I was trying to help you get into bed”, you said, voice soft but with a teasing tone, “Guess I got a little carried away”. He laughed quietly, pulling you even closer, “Guess I don’t mind”, he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing lightly over the exposed curve of your shoulder. 

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension now. His fingers grazed your ribs before traveling lower to your hip, not quite touching anywhere private, but still leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever they went. Your heart beat faster as you shifted beside him, feeling the bond between you grow stronger, the air electric with unspoken desire, “Are you going to make me beg?”, he whispered, his voice rougher now. “You’ll have to wait”, you teased back, giving him a small push, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to distance yourself or draw him closer.

In the quiet tension that hung between you, words didn’t seem necessary anymore. It was enough that you were there, and he was there, and everything in this moment felt like it was on the verge of something more heated, but also something soft, something slow— a new kind of intimacy.

And when the air finally seemed to cool and the tension dissipated just enough for sleep to creep in, Hyunjin’s arm slid around you, pulling you close. His lips whispered into your hair, soft and warm, and though nothing else happened that night, you knew that the connection between you two had changed, “Stay…” “What?” “Stay here with me forever” “I’m not going anywhere, Hyunie”. He chuckled quietly, pulling you closer into his chest, “I love you”. You could feel his smile against his skin, as your eyes closed softly, “I know. I love you too”. 

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

[pukefactory]

if you’re up for it, could you write a shrimpo x reader (gender neutral) where after getting into a relationship, shrimpo starts pulling the reader aside for angry kisses or cuddles to calm down?

i love your writing <3

Thank you, Anon! I’m so glad you enjoy my writing, and I hope you like this request just as much!

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི LOVE TO HATE YOU ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

.ᐟ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring A Cuddly Shrimpo X Reader

.ᐟ Character(s): Shrimpo the Shrimp (Dandy’s World)

.ᐟ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

.ᐟ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

.ᐟ Image Credits: @sceneryocean

⳻⳺ Shrimpo doesn’t ask for kisses. He takes them. If he’s mad—which is always—he’ll grab you by the wrist, drag you to a corner, and shout something like, “I HATE BEING MAD, FIX IT!!!” before aggressively pressing his face against yours. It’s a kiss, technically, but mostly just Shrimpo angrily squishing his mouth against yours before stomping off, face redder than usual.

⳻⳺ He acts like cuddles are your idea, even when he’s the one dragging you onto the couch and throwing a blanket over both of you. “I HATE THIS. I HATE THIS SO MUCH,” he growls, arms locked around your waist. When you try to leave, he tightens his grip. “NO, SHUT UP. YOU CAN’T GO. SHRIMPO WINS.”

⳻⳺ Shrimpo never admits to wanting affection. Instead, he’ll snatch your hand with a glare and yell, “I HATE LOSING YOU IN CROWDS.” There is no crowd. You’re in an empty hallway. He just refuses to say, I like holding your hand.

⳻⳺ If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, Shrimpo is in their face. “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO THEM?! YOU WANNA FIGHT?! I’LL WIN. SHRIMPO ALWAYS WINS.” He’ll stay mad for hours after, muttering, “I HATE THEM. I HATE THEM SO MUCH,” while aggressively nuzzling against your shoulder.

⳻⳺ If someone calls him out on his soft spot for you, he snaps. “I HATE THEM!!!” (He does not. He adores you.) “I DON’T CARE ABOUT THEM!!!” (He does. So much.) Then he yanks you into a side room, scowling. “…TELL THEM I HATE YOU.” You do not. Instead, you kiss his forehead. He turns pink and screeches.

⳻⳺ Shrimpo is short. You are (probably) taller. He hates it. “I HATE LOOKING UP AT YOU!!!” But when he’s mad and needs comfort, he climbs onto something to be your height, grabs your face, and kisses you aggressively before jumping down and pretending it never happened.

⳻⳺ If he gets upset around the other Toons, you know what’s coming. “COME HERE.” “Shrimpo, I’m talking to-.” “NOW.” Suddenly, he’s wrapped around you, face buried in your neck. Everyone is staring. You try to say something, but he shushes you. “I HATE EVERYONE LOOKING AT US.” Then why are you doing this, Shrimpo?

⳻⳺ He insults you right before demanding affection. “I HATE YOUR FACE. IT’S SO ANNOYING.” You blink. “…Oh.” Shrimpo grabs your collar. “NOW LET ME KISS IT SO IT BOTHERS ME LESS.”

⳻⳺ Shrimpo claims he doesn’t nap. But when he’s mad, he’ll grab you, yell something like, “I HATE EVERYONE, BUT YOU’RE WARM!!!” and immediately pass out on top of you. If you move, he growls. “DON’T. MOVE. SHRIMPO NEEDS THIS.”

⳻⳺ Late at night, when he’s too tired to keep up the act, he tugs on your sleeve, glaring at the floor. “I HATE ASKING.” You sigh. “What do you want, Shrimpo?” He hesitates, then whispers: “…hug.” If you tease him, he screeches and leaves. If you just hold him, he goes quiet.

[hanniescookie]

the one - ljh

pairing - lee jihoon x f!reader

genre/warnings - est. relationship, petnames, angst, slight fluff, skinship, anxiety, comfort,

summary - all your past relationships have left you with nothing but an unending fear of things ending too soon. but lee jihoon is different.

wc - 0.9K

author's note - to the anon that requested this, thank you so much for doing so, and i hope this is worth it 🤍

Is it my fault again?

The question rings in your head over and over again, involuntarily keeping you from a much needed slumber. You stare at the empty spot on the bed next to you, hand reaching out to caress the cold place.

It has been nearly a week since you haven't been able to properly see your boyfriend. You weren't able to meet him because he has been stuck in the studio for many days. When you did go to visit him there on one occasion, you were disappointed to see him caught up with work to the point that he couldn't even greet you fully before he had to go. You know he's busy with work. You can't blame him for not being able to make time for you because you understand.

Yet, there is a lingering stress in your mind that threatens to eat you up. It has only been six months since you've started dating him — two months more than what your past relationships averagely ever lasted.

You'd always been worried about this growing thing between you both, and it always made you insecure. Afraid. Of loosing him, of losing everything you built just like always.

Your hand reaches out to unlock your phone again to check for any messages but there are none. Jihoon hasn't responded to your texts, nor has he contacted you himself.

You know what this means. You've been here before. You're aware of how this ends.

Your brain goes into an overdrive, and you suddenly feel like choking on nothing. There's a growing lump in your throat that begins to resist your air supply, and you sit up in restlessness, tears streaming down your face before you know it.

You cannot do this. You cannot loose Jihoon. Not him. Has he really given up on you?

“Y/N?”

You hear him before you see him. Jihoon is walking inside the bedroom, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make sense of your state. You regain your senses a little at his sight, but it also makes you more breathless.

“Babe, are you okay?” His concern-filled voice reaches your ears after his hands cup your face. He scans your whole face, thumb involuntarily wiping at the wetness on your cheeks.

You try to speak, but your voice cracks, and all that comes out is a sob. Jihoon's expression softens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you close as you cry.

You can tell he's trying not to panic, and you know he's sick worried.

"It's alright," he whispers into your ear. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

His words make you tighten yourself in his arms. Even when you haven't said a word, he knows just what to say to make you feel better.

He gently guides you to lie back down, and he joins you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. He holds you in silence for a while, letting you cry it out.

When you finally calm down, he speaks up, his voice low yet firm. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend time with you lately. I know it's been tough. But it's not because I don't want to be with you. It's just...work has been crazy."

You sniffle, looking up at him "I know. I'm sorry. I just...I feel like I'm losing you."

Jihoon's grip on you tightens, and he softly caresses the back of your head. "You're not losing me, Y/N. I promise. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."

He pauses, taking a deep breath. "You're my priority, love. You and us. I know I haven't been showing it lately, but that doesn't mean my feelings have changed. You're the one I want to come home to. Nothing can change that as long as you want the same.”

Suddenly, you want to cry more. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders as you look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

"Really?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You continue looking at him, his eyes shining with conviction, and your heart swells with indecipherable emotions. You feel a lump form in your throat again, but this time, it's not from sadness or anxiety. It's from the overwhelming love and gratitude you feel for this man.

"Really," Jihoon repeats, his voice filled with affection. He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. You feel assured now, and your tears dry as a soft smile spreads across your face.

Jihoon pulls back, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles back at you. "I'm sorry again for making you worry," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I promise to do better, to make more time for you."

You shake your head, your smile growing wider. "You don't have to apologize, babe. I know you're busy, and I'm proud of you for working so hard."

He smiles back at you, internally glad that you both are able to talk things out like this. When his lips meet yours, you know you don't have to worry about anything. This man is the one for you, you're sure.

| @maestro-net

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after: (im)perfect for you | l. at

part one (w/ Sungchan) | part two

pairing: Boyfriend!Anton x fem!reader

word count: 19.6k

author's note: Wrote this while listening to a lot of Ariana Grande, her new album just got me addicted. I feel like the song eternal sunshine has lots to do with reader’s memories of her relationship with Sungchan whereas imperfect for you and ordinary things perfectly encapsulate how she and Anton love each other. I also threw in some references from bed chem, by Sabrina Carpenter, for the anon who asked for it a while ago. This is for everyone who requested part 2 and some vengeance/justice for the reader. Thank you all for the kind comments and for caring so much for this story. I hope you guys enjoy this and love this couple just as much as I do! Happy Anton day! ❤

contents: Smut, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort. 10 years time jump, ex-fwb!Sungchan cameo, regretful!Sungchan. Descriptions about messed up family dynamics, depression, anxiety attacks, taking meds and going to therapy. Insecure!Anton, mention of a safe word, possessive/jealous sex turned soft in the end, Anton talks about Sungchan during sex. Vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), squirting, vaginal penetration, petnames, reader sucks Anton's fingers like 3 times. Anton (lovingly) refers to reader as a "whore" once and as a "little slut" in another instance. Supreme aftercare!!! Anton and reader are so sweetly in love it gave me tooth ache — a bunch of praise, i love you's, healthy conversations, understanding and being silly with each other. And a happy ending, YAY!

extra info: This can be read as a standalone, but you might miss some backstory + clues from the first part. for the complete experience and understanding, I recommend checking out part one.

taglist: @shotaru-o @yoursyuno @dreamiestay @tonspresso @maripositaa @strawbrryvyy @hanniehq @sushimilks @severefireangelprune @kkyiu

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like!

You’ve never been one to party much.

Although you did spend some years in college fooling around in parties and enjoying your youth, after graduation you’ve mostly stuck to bars, restaurants and small friend’s gatherings. When you finally hit thirty, the occasional affair became even more rare and you found yourself enjoying your time more inside your own home, either alone or with the ones you love.

But not tonight.

Tonight, you’re celebrating finally landing the promotion you’ve been aiming for for the past two years and you’re doing it in style. You’ve worked your butt off to get it and finally it paid off. You were already in talks with your boss for the past month about getting the higher position, but the news officially got delivered this morning and you signed the addendum to your contract in the afternoon, going over all the bureaucracies necessary so everything could be set in for next Monday. So you haven’t been able to meet your friends and commemorate it yet.

That’s why you’re currently at the most expensive nightclub in Seoul, texting your boyfriend to let him know you’ve just arrived. You send him your real-time location so he can find you inside the club and he replies saying he’s on his way. Then you move to your friends’ group chat, doing the same with them. You’ve just hit the button to send them your whereabouts, getting distracted while staring down your screen, when someone collides with you. Your arm brushes harshly against the person’s arm and some of their drink falls into your hands, also wetting your phone. You curse silently and shake your arm off, trying to get rid of the liquid as the person turns to you.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” a man’s voice says. You catch his silhouette in your peripheral vision while you look down to your phone, automatically trying to clean it on the fabric of your skirt. “Oh no. Here, let me help,” he offers, resting his drink on a small circular table near you and reaching for some napkins. He grabs your phone and starts cleaning it. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

You watch his knuckles while he wipes the device clean. Once he’s done, he hands you the phone back with a couple of napkins that you gladly take.

“Thank yo—” you try to say, but your voice gets stuck in your throat as you finally glance up to look at him.

He has a gentle smile on his face, seemingly distracted and ready to reply when he gazes back at you. He also pauses for a bit while his eyes scan all over your face, with no doubt recognizing you back.

And then, with a stunned face and wide eyes, he asks, “Y/N?”

No way.

There’s no damn way you’ve just stumbled upon Jung Sungchan nearly ten years after that dreaded ending of your relationship. 

But it is him. Standing right in front of you in all his aggravating glory, at the club on the night you’re supposed to be filled with joy and nothing more.

It can only be a joke from destiny or God himself or whatever. Whoever’s the one who orchestrates the spinning wheels of your life must be having a pretty big laugh right now. And they are the only ones.

You sigh whilst you meet the soft brown orbs you haven’t seen for quite some time, feeling your heart constrict inside your chest. Looking at him, it’s hard not to get lost in awful old memories and all the trauma you already unpacked. But you decide that you won’t let this ruin your night. You’ll treat this brief encounter exactly as it is: a brief encounter. Nothing more.

As long as it ends right freaking now.

So you set your eyes hard and nod at him politely. “Sungchan,” is all you say, already moving to walk away from him. He doesn’t let you get very far, though, his hand closing over your elbow and stopping your steps.

Of fucking course he wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily. He never did before.

He seems almost suspended in the air, glancing up and down at you with his mouth slightly open while his fingers grip your skin firmly, no matter how much you try to pull your arm away. In another time, this action would drive a thrill through your spine. Right now, it only makes you feel annoyed and angry. So you rest your shoulders square and give him a pointed look. “Do you mind?” You say, looking at your arm and then back at him. 

He does the same with his eyes, glancing to your arm and then back to you. Finally clarity takes over his features and he releases you, cleaning his sweaty palm on the front of his jeans after. “Sorry. I was just shocked — I am shocked. Wow, I haven’t seen you in so long. It’s nice stumbling into you.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, choosing to give him a closed lip smile instead. “Yeah, well… I actually have to meet someone, so—”

“Wait,” he exclaims suddenly and you flinch back before he even thinks of touching you again. He notices your reaction and switches back to his normal tone. “Sorry. I just wanted to catch up with you, you know? Like, how have you been? It’s been too long.”

It should’ve been longer, is what you think. But you’re still a polite woman and would not say something like that, even though that’s the phrase burning on the tip of your tongue when you finally access him. You wouldn’t walk away from him when he so clearly wants to chat either, even though that’s what you want and what he deserves. Alas, your parents raised you well enough to at least give him a proper reply. 

“I’m great,” you say, curt and final while using the napkin still clutched in your hand to rub at the liquid he spilled on you. It smells like whisky, you realize. After cleaning yourself, you toss the crumpled napkin back at the tabletop he found it on. “You?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good,” he says, his voice wavering a little bit, high pitched and then low. Your hesitancy towards him and your little intention in staying in conversation with him is probably obvious by now and you’re sure he catches it all from your answer with how his cheeks flush and his arm goes to the back of his head to scratch at it.

Before you have a chance to make an escape again, he continues. “You look different — good different, I mean. Fuck, sorry.”

Seeing him this helpless, you can’t help the smile that forces its way on your face or the laughter that follows suit. You’ve never seen Sungchan so out of place before. He’s being so awkward, stuttering and apologizing over and over again. And it’s all because of you, for some weird reason. It’s kind of pathetic. A little endearing too, but mostly pathetic.

You cover your mouth to save some of his dignity and compel yourself to stop laughing. “Sungchan, that’s like the fifth time you apologized to me in under two minutes,” you say, giggles still bubbling on your throat. “Just be chill.”

Sungchan smiles at you, his features softening because of your laughter. “Sorry, I just—” he says, and your giggles break free again because of the new apology, interrupting him and making him laugh with you.

Once the mirth dies down, he tries again. “I guess I’m just nervous. And you’re not helping. You’re looking at me like you want me dead.”

“Well, I kinda do,” you reply back and he narrows his eyes at you like he’s analyzing if you’re joking or not. You quickly quell his worries by giving him a soft smile, deciding ultimately to take it easy on him. Keeping up the tough act would just drain your energy. It’s not worth it. “Sorry, that isn’t true. But it’s not like we ended things on good terms, so can you blame me?”

At your words, Sungchan makes a remorseful face, putting a hand on the front pocket of his pants and casting his eyes down. “I know. And it’s all my fault.” Then he looks up like he had the greatest idea in the world, gaze glinting whilst he steps closer to you. “But what if you let me buy you a drink and hopefully we end things on a better note this time?”

The end of his sentence kind of stuns you. You can’t quite believe that, after all this time, Sungchan is flirting with you. But of course he is, because it’s Sungchan. He’s showing all his telltale signs, too — bulging his arms slightly, lowering his voice, poking the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips then giving you a cocky smile, checking you out like he wants to eat you alive, his free hand hanging too damn close to yours. Unfortunately, you’ve come to know all of his tactics after falling victim to them one too many times.

His eyes are eager and hopeful whilst he waits for your response. You feel like an owner dangling a piece of meat in front of his pet, taunting him with something delicious while still not giving him anything. Finally, after all this time, you are the one in control.

But as much as your ego is being stroked, you don’t want any of this. Not anymore. And it’s been like this for a long time.

“No, thanks,” you reply simply.

Two seconds pass until he registers your answer and his smirk vanishes, the corners of his mouth turning down and self-doubt filling his eyes. He starts to say something that seems like another apology, but at that point you’re not hearing nor looking at him anymore. Because that’s when you see him.

All clad in denim and with his fresh neck-length black hair, your boyfriend is making his way through the mass of people in the club to reach you, your gazes finding each other at the same time. You instantly feel calmness seep into your veins, the slight discomfort provoked by your meeting with Sungchan vanishing and being replaced by excitement while you hold your breath until he reaches you. When he’s a mere meter away from you, you step around Sungchan to receive him.

“Hi, love,” he greets with a beautiful smile, stopping right in front of you. “I know, I’m late. Sorry, I got caught up in—”

You leap on him before he has the chance to finish his sentence, arms going around his frame, and he stumbles back because of the knock of your bodies together. He chuckles, winding his arms around your waist as you hold him closely against you, nestling your head between his neck and clavicle.

“I missed you, too,” he says with laughter still in his voice and grips you just as tightly. You bury your nose on his neck and inhale his soft woody cologne. Peace and happiness run through your whole body at rapid speed. “Fridays in the hospital are always crazy and the line to this place is insane. I’m sorry I’m late.”

You shake your head as you pull away slightly. “It’s fine, baby, you’re here now.”

That’s when you really look at him. The royal blue of his denim clothes suit his complexion and the black belt with a silver buckle around his hips compliment the look. His shirt’s sleeves are folded nicely up to his elbow, showing off his pretty forearms. Everything combined with his long hair and accessories give him a soft rocker aura that makes your mouth water. 

It’s honestly unfair how extra good-looking he looks tonight. You feel the need to pounce on him right now, but you have to settle for giving him a peck and tugging on some of his strands while standing on your tiptoes.

“You look so good,” you whisper when your lips separate.

“You look so good!” He says, his eyes moving up and down your frame. “Real damn good! You got that Shiny New Miss Editor look!”

He moves his mouth to yours again and you smile against his lips, and then he’s spinning you around in his arms. You laugh loudly, hiding your face in his neck while his hands grip your hips, your legs dangling under you. After he completes three circles, you hit on his chest and ask him to stop, getting dizzy from happiness and being whirled. He puts you on your feet back and you try to balance yourself on your legs as he holds you up, pressing multiple kisses to your face. At this point, you’re laughing so much your cheeks start to hurt.

“I’m so, so, so damn proud of you, baby,” he says in between his stream of kisses. “Congrats, my love.”

“Thank you, baby,” you reply giggling, rearing back slightly and trying to escape his lips’ attack on your face. But he just follows you, still connecting his mouth to your skin repeatedly and making you lightheaded. “Wait, baby, I can’t breathe properly.”

Only then he stops, looking down at you with a huge smile on his face. You recompose yourself, putting your hair back into place and straightening your clothes. 

When you finish, you put your hands around his neck again and mutter with sincerity, “I couldn’t have done it without you, babe.”

You’re about to kiss him again, but your little bubble of joy and love pops when someone coughs just behind your boyfriend. You look over his shoulders to find Sungchan still standing there, having witnessed all of your interaction. You sigh, annoyed with him again. 

Does he ever catch a hint?

Of course, your partner, the politest person you’ve ever met, turns around to face Sungchan. The tip of his ears tinge pink at being caught by someone in such an intimate moment with you, but he quickly shakes it off to address the other man.

“Hi! Sorry, I didn’t know Y/N was talking with someone. I’m Anton, her boyfriend,” he introduces himself sheepishly and extends his free hand to Sungchan, his other arm still clinging to you by his side. You want to take a bite out of him from how cute he looks, so adorable being courteous to a stranger while still having his cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

Sungchan looks at Anton’s hand for a moment before grasping it and you watch how their palms tightly press against each other, fingers bending while the veins in Anton’s forearm stand out and Sungchan’s bicep bulges slightly from the effort. It's a masculine showdown happening right in front of you. 

“Hi, I’m Sungchan. I’m Y/N’s—”

“He’s a friend from college,” you interfere, looking at Anton to explain it to him. “Back when I studied law. I’ve told you about him.”

Sungchan gives you a sly smile, finally taking his hand away from Anton’s handshake and trying to discreetly flex his fingers. “Has she told you we used to hook up, too? Because it seems like she wants to hide it from you, dude.”

A flash of anger passes through Anton's eyes and a second later it’s gone. Even though his grip around your waist tightens, he keeps cool and collected, his posture relaxed while he moves his now free hand to his pants’ pocket. “Actually, she has. Aren’t you the one who traded her over for a freshman or some dumbass move like that, dude?” He asks, holding steady eye contact with Sungchan and plastering a shit-eating grin on his face.

You snicker into your fist as you watch the arrogance flee from Sungchan’s features. He presses his lips together and drops his gaze down in dismay. Anton’s smile turns triumphal, knowing he had won the confrontation between the two of them. Then he turns to you with sweet eyes and you think it’s the hottest thing ever how he can change from harsh to tender in the blink of an eye.

“Baby, I’m going to grab you a drink while you speak with your friend, okay?” He says, rubbing your arms up and down. You plead him with your gaze to not to be left alone with Sungchan, the long time you’ve been together making it easy to talk with only your eyes, but Anton shakes his head almost imperceptibly, giving you an encouraging pat on your shoulder. “You want your usual?”

You sigh, defeated, and nod your head. “Yes, please.”

“You got it,” he says, bending down to kiss your lips and then your forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

When Anton walks away, you finally turn to Sungchan again. He has his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes are looking behind you, with no doubt still analyzing your boyfriend as he scurries to the bar. Only now you give yourself the chance to take him in. He looks good, in a fitted white t-shirt, black leather pants and a matching dark jacket. The same as ever. Still handsome, only older, just like you. And definitely a little bit buzzed, enough to make a move on you and irritate your usually peaceful partner.

Sugchan’s eyes jump back to you. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he says, and you half expect him to make a snide remark about Anton, but he just completes his observation with, “He seems like a good guy.”

You smile and look over your shoulders, catching a glimpse of Anton already at the end of the line to the bar. He’s pretending to scroll through his phone and stealing glances at you and Sungchan, trying so hard to seem nonchalant while simultaneously watching you like a hawk. It’s freaking adorable and you make a mental note to tease him about it later. When his eyes meet yours, he lifts his eyebrows up and mouths, “What?”. You just wink at him and turn back to the conversation with Sungchan, still smiling.

“He’s a really good guy,” you answer him.

Sungchan nods, carefully watching your reaction. “You seem happy.”

Your smile becomes bigger. “I am happy.”

His eyes tremble slightly after your reply. Then he tilts his head to the side and relaxes his posture, arms going back to his sides. “You’re a book editor now?”

You’re taken aback that he actually heard everything you and Anton talked about. You were too overcome with joy to pay attention to anything else or care about being too loud.

“Yeah. I’ve been working with Gimm-Young since graduation,” you explain. “They offered me the promotion this morning.”

He listens to you with attentive eyes, nodding his head. “I remember Sohee told me back in college that you switched majors. I was really glad for you. But, wow, now you got an editor position at a big publishing house. And while you’re pretty young, too. Congratulations, Y/N. You made it.”

You’re shocked by his praise, but you take it nonetheless. And then pieces of memories you had with him flood your mind. Back then, you talked to him about your dream, showed him some of your writing and expressed doubts and insecurity on really going for it. In turn, he listened to your worries attentively, read and praised your works and spurred you on to go for what you wanted.

You scrunch your eyebrows up and look down at your feet, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden memories. Maybe Sungchan was an asshole, but he was a supportive asshole.

“Thank you,” you say, your eyes shifting back to him again. “I remember you— You encouraged me to study Lit back then, Sungchan. It was really meaningful at the time.”

He shakes his head. “Well, I’m not taking credit for your obvious hard work, Y/N.”

“I’m not giving you credit,” you say pointedly and he laughs. “I’m just saying thanks, I guess? For hearing me and supporting me back then.”

He shakes a hand in front of him, like he’s declining your explanation. “Hey, there’s no need for that. That’s the least I could do, really. You were great back then and I’m sure you're even better now.”

“Well, maybe you’ll read one of my editing works one day,” you say with a smile.

“Maybe.” He smiles back at you. “Or one of your books. I assume you’re still writing.”

“I am,” you confirm. “But that’ll still take a while to come to fruition.”

“When it does, can your first fan hope for an invite to your first book release party?” He asks, obviously referring to himself as your first fan, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You can’t help but laugh at his antics. He’s showing the playful Sungchan you saw on occasion and the nostalgia gets to you. “We’ll see when the time comes.”

He nods with a smile. Then a beat later he’s stepping closer and the atmosphere turns serious, his sorrowful eyes gazing at you. “Y/N, I want you to know I’m very sorry for how I behaved with you back when we were together.” 

You can’t hide the astonishment on your face, being caught unprepared for this.

“I know it probably sounds like shit right now, but I cared for you. You really were special to me, even though I didn’t show it,” he barrels on. “You are a sweet girl, Y/N. You didn’t deserve what I did. I regret it every day since.”

The sincerity of his surprising words hits you right in the chest and you have to inhale deeply to prepare yourself for a response despite the shock. 

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s fine, Sungchan. I already worked everything out in therapy anyway.”

It’s the truth, you did work everything out in therapy. And despite being annoyed by meeting him tonight at first, you realize you really have no hard feelings towards Sungchan anymore. You’ve already come to the understanding that whatever happened back then, it wasn’t because of your actions, feelings or words. It wasn’t because you were undeserving of his love. He just couldn’t give it to you, for whatever personal reason he had. What happened was Sungchan’s responsibility, his guilt to carry, not yours. And, from what he’s saying, he acknowledges how carelessly he treated you and that finally puts you at peace with that chapter of your life. 

“My therapist thinks you’re an asshole, by the way,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

“Something both me and your boyfriend can agree on, too, apparently,” he says with a chuckle, balancing forwards and backwards on his feet a little. “Well, I won’t keep you from him any longer. I have to wallow in self-pity right now because I let the successful Gimm-Young editor slip from my fingers.”

You scoff, not believing his words at all. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re really sad about it,” you say ironically.

He probably has a long line of eager girls wanting to be his girlfriend, anyway. You’re just glad you’re not one of them anymore.

You stand there with him for a beat, smiling about it. Then, his gaze shifts to something vulnerable and he gulps his saliva down, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he speaks again. “So, just to be sure… If you didn’t have someone, would you still— Well, would you consider—”

You catch on to what he’s trying to ask pretty quickly and reply before he embarrasses himself further by completing the sentence. “Yup, I’d still reject you. That ship sailed a long time ago, pal.”

Because of his failed flirting attempt, you try to concentrate and search for the body reactions you used to have whenever he’d sweet-talked you in the past. But there’s no heat on your face and limbs anymore, no goosebumps on your arms, no itch in your hands from wanting to touch him, no more sweat accumulating on your hairline and no tingling on your body. It’s all gone. The only thing you feel left for him is a quiet sentimentalist from what you shared during your college days that translates into a soft but lingering pang in your heart. Nothing more.

“Okay, I just had to try,” Sungchan says with a blush on his cheeks and a glazed over look in his eyes. “I should probably go now… before your boyfriend’s eyes  actually turn into red lasers and open a hole through me.”

You look behind you one more time to see that he’s right. Anton is tapping his fingers on the bar countertop while he waits for your drink to be made, his eyes completely focused on both of you, not even pretending like he doesn’t care anymore. He does kinda look like he might commit attempted murder at any moment. You send him a kiss despite his sour face.

“I’m sure he treats you better than I ever could, anyway,” Sungchan completes.

You look back to answer him. “That’s not very hard to accomplish, but yes, he does,” you tease with a smile.

Sungchan smiles back at you. “Yeah, I deserved that one.” He sighs and shakes his head, rubbing a hand on his neck. “Thank you for talking with me. It was nice seeing you.”

“You too, Sungchan,” you reply sincerely.

He’s about to walk away, but then he halts his movements, looking at you one more time. “Oh, and Y/N? I really hope you’re happy.”

You nod and smile at him. “I really am, Sungchan.”

“Then I’m glad,” he says with finality, gazing at you one last time and starting to turn around.

However, just before Sungchan can fully spin around, your eyes catch the glimmer of a metallic chain connected in between two of his jeans’ belt loops. Beside it, in his front loop, dangles a keychain with three trinkets hanging from the same clasp — a burger charm, a soccer ball one and, if your eyes aren’t failing you, one very familiar lilac polka dotted scrunchie.

You smile to yourself after the keychain is out of your line of sight. 

Maybe you really were special to him once.

While you watch Sungchan’s retreating back, you’re taken by an abrupt feeling. It’s not the anxiety and dread you used to feel whenever he left you or the longing that always took over you. It’s something keen to relaxation and comfort, like the sense you get when you meet an old friend or are wrapped up in a warm fuzzy blanket on a cold winter night. There’s a tinge of nostalgia mixed with the emotion flowing from the place right behind your chest and spreading through your limbs.

When you can’t see him anymore, you take a deep breath and think that what you’re feeling is relief.

Only when Anton comes to you again with a few of your friends in tow right after, you completely understand the emotion. With your best friends squealing around you in a circle, giving you their congratulations about your promotion, and Anton smiling at your side, looking at you as if you hung the moon and the stars in the night sky, you feel pure, absolute and unrestrained joy.

“Did you know you are the most perfect boyfriend ever?”

Anton is clearly taken aback by your sentence. He has just helped you get inside his car and buckled your seat belt for you, humming happily when you lean close to press a kiss to his cheek. After showing bewilderment, he smiles, a small blush appearing on his cheeks because of your praise. It’s the cutest thing ever.

“Thank you, baby,” he says, the smile still lingering on his lips. “You’re the most perfect girlfriend ever, too.”

He leans in to give you a quick peck, but as he backs away, you put a hand on his nape to keep him there, following his mouth with your own until your lips are pressed together again. It only lasts five seconds, but it’s enough to make you whine when he pulls away completely.

Anton laughs at you and straightens up from his bent down position, getting his upper body out of the car. He closes the passenger door carefully, then comes around to the driver’s side, opening the door to get inside. 

He’s the designated driver for tonight, choosing to opt out of drinking so you could relax and have fun with your friends while he made sure you were safe and back home without any scratches. Being the perfect boyfriend that he is, of course he made sure your friends would get home safe, too, calling them a cab on his own phone and waiting it out with you until their taxi arrived before getting you both inside his car.

Once he’s buckled in, he turns the key in the ignition and the car springs to life. He gives you a soft smile before turning on his blinkers to safely enter the lane. In no time, you’re on the road to your home and your hands are tangled together over the center console.

“You want to stop by somewhere to grab food?” He asks after a while.

You shake your head. “I don’t feel hungry right now. Can we order in later?”

“Of course, baby.” He looks over to you for a brief moment before fixating his eyes back on the road, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, after four years of dating, I found out something new about you today.”

“Oh, did you?” You reply, leaning onto his teasing words. “What is it?”

“You’re a party girl,” he states accusingly, making you laugh.

“What? No, I’m not,” you say, trying to be firm and serious, but your words get interrupted by a giggle. You scrunch up your nose because of your own mistake. 

Anton just chuckles at you as he makes a turn on a street. “Tell that to the four shots you downed today, babe.”

You squint your eyes, pinching his wrist lightly, and he gives you a little groan. “Hey, I was celebrating today! Can’t a new promotee have a few shots?”

His eyes glint while he tightens his hold on your hand. “Yes, you can, love. I’m just teasing.”

“Well, don’t tease me, Anton.” You scrunch your eyebrows up and make a frown, pretending to be angry. “It’s my promotion day. You’re not allowed to tease me!”

“Sorry, Miss Editor, I forgot. No teasing for today, got it,” he says, letting your hand go to make a fake army salute. You laugh and squeeze his bicep in reprieve, and he chuckles with you.

“You’re a menace,” you say, letting him take your hand in his again just as the car slows down to stop at a traffic light.

You take the moment to pull his hand to your lips, pressing soft kisses on his knuckles as your eyes meet his. “Thank you for being with me today, baby,” you whisper over his skin and you smile to yourself when goosebumps rise in his forearm. “And for taking care of me and my friends.”

Anton moves the hand you’re kissing to your face, rubbing his fingers over your cheekbone, and you lean into his touch. “Of course, baby. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I love you so much,” you confess as you start to drop kisses into his open palm now, your lips lingering a bit too long over the tip of his thumb.

“I love you, my girl,” he says, pinching your cheek.

You wish you could do more to show him how much you actually appreciate him being who he is. But the light on the stoplight turns green and you have to reluctantly stop yourself from touching him a little more boldly over road safety. You’ll have plenty of time to make him feel loved once you get home.

You roll your window down and tilt your face towards the chilly wind as you think about how you really did hit the jackpot with Anton. You’ve met him at your job, while you were working in a book launch party from one of your company’s authors, helping out the social media crew that was currently short-staffed and busy.

In your position as an assistant editor, you’ve worked pretty closely with the author launching her book before. Your chief editor trusted you completely and let you bounce ideas back and forth with her, so you knew each other pretty well. Anton was the author’s cousin and when she introduced you to him at the release party, there was buzzing excitement in her eyes. She told you how he was a Korean-American that moved back to Seoul with his brother for medical school. Currently in his last year of college, he had been studying nonstop to get his professional license after it, so he needed a night off to relax and that’s why she ended up inviting him to the party. He had on a nice white jacket that complimented his thick shoulders and when he talked with you, you couldn’t help but be somewhat captivated by such a soft voice coming out of such a broad body, his cute accent making him even more adorable.

Later that night, when the party was already fizzling out and your body started to hurt from standing on high heels for too long, he approached you again. When you complained about the ache on your feet, he found a free chair for you to sit on. And when you laughed about something he said, he asked for your number. He looked too damn cute bouncing up and down between his two long legs while you typed your digits on his phone. And after your contact was saved, he pressed call so you could have his number, too.

When a colleague called you to help with something else, Anton pouted adorably because you had to go so soon. Before you went away, the tip of his fingers brushed against yours for a brief fleeting moment and he made a promise to contact you soon. The next morning, you woke up with a text from him on your phone, asking what type of food you enjoyed so he could take you out on a date.

It took a few dates and a couple of sincere conversations about both of your expectations in a relationship before you and Anton made it official. Since the beginning, he never let his intentions be misunderstood. From the first date, he made it very clear he was interested in you as a whole person, not parts of you. He didn’t want to have your body if he didn’t get to have your soul either. He has taken you seriously since then. After the fifth time you went out together, you brought him home with you. You still remember the image of him hovering above you, cheeks and neck flushed while he stared at you deeply, telling you in the softest voice ever how he wanted you to be his girlfriend. He made you feel secure, the sincerity in his tone helping you to never doubt his words. And when he used that same feathery intonation of his to coax out of you the most powerful orgasm you ever had in your life, you were done for. You wholeheartedly handed yourself out for him and he did the same right back.

You’re together for almost five years now and Anton has been with you through thick and thin. He deeply enjoyed the sheer joy in your mom’s face when you brought him up to meet your family. She kept going on and on about how tall and good-looking and young and amazing your doctor boyfriend was. Nothing you ever did in your life before made her as happy as introducing him as your partner and it felt nice seeing him being appreciated by your loved ones. Either way, whenever your family dinners took a turn and your father would try to convince you to study law again and become a judge like him and your mother would make poisonous comments about the amount of food on your plate, all while your sister boasted about her successful career as a lawyer, taking occasional jabs at you for giving up on it, Anton rubbed circles on the back of your hand under the table, soothing the ache he knew you felt about not being understood by your own flesh and blood, showing that he understands and sees you better than anyone.

Anton was with you during your grandfather’s funeral and one month after it, when your little dog died unexpectedly of a quiet illness. He hugged you and listened to you as you sobbed and babbled on for hours about how unfair death was. When your eyes became red and your throat sore, he wrapped you up in a blanket and held you firmly until you slept.

He was beside you during your depressive slumps, letting you sleep your exhaustion out for how long you needed to and not pressing you on about it, having food ready and plated for you when you woke up. When you made a mild mistake during work and got afraid of being fired, he encouraged you to talk to your boss and fix the problem, helping you come up with a plan to gain back her trust again. He was also with you when your brother married one of your best friends and when they told you they got pregnant. When you were announced as the child’s future godmother, he cried tears of happiness with you.

Anton bragged about you during his family dinners, telling his parents how brave you were for changing career paths and accomplishing so much in so little time and mentioning how he hoped his little brother would find a partner as amazing as you. He made sure your relationship with his parents was as lovely and safe as possible and you are constantly doted on by his family because of it.

Three months after your psychiatrist dosed down on your depression meds, he prepared you a homemade dinner and told you how proud he was of you for battling such a devious disease and pushing through despite all of your struggles.

And when he got anxiety attacks during his time studying for the surgery residency program, you taught him your methods to push through them and made him an appointment with your doctor. You were beside him, helping him work through his fears and the tension. When he got in the program, you were the first person he called. And he was also the number one on your call list when you got your promotion earlier today.

Whenever his sinusitis would flare up, you were also the one by his side, watching on his health, making sure he took his meds, making him tea and helping him with nebulizing.

Sometimes, when your bad thoughts get the best of you, you feel like you don’t deserve him. You think he’s too good to be true, that he does more for you than you do for him and that he’ll grow tired of it and drop you like so many have done in the past. On times like that, Anton always tells you he’s the lucky one for having you on his side and the sincerity dripping from his lips and eyes always scare your doubts away. You believe in him even when you don’t believe in yourself. He makes you see how you bring out the best out of each other. And when any of you are feeling down, you both always feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable.

There’s no pressure to be perfect with Anton. You can make mistakes and try again how many times it takes. And he does the same. Despite you seeing him as a pretty perfect man, Anton also messes up, like any normal human being. And you do the same. Over and over and over again.

Sometimes you speak with him a little too roughly. Or he gives you the silent treatment when things don’t go his way. Or you wake up in a bad mood and take it out on him. Or, on the same day, he forgets to take out the trash from your shared place and you arrive late to an important work dinner of his. You argue and get mad and upset like any other couple. But each time it happens, you talk it out. And he never leaves you alone in your relationship struggles, always meeting you halfway to solve the matter.

The thing is you accept each other, the good and the bad and the in-between. No feelings or thoughts are invalidated or dismissed. He makes you confident and comfortable in your own skin. And you like to think you do the same for him.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome and jacked, too, his swimming career in school building up his muscles nicely to the man he is today. That’s what you’re thinking about while he takes the final turn to enter your apartment building, parking the car on his spot with one hand on the steering wheel and the other one still gripping yours tightly, attentive eyes checking the car mirrors.

His shirt hangs nicely on his body and the two top buttons under its collar are undone, showing his clavicle and a hint of his chest. You lick your lips and breathe through your nose deeply, trying to settle the buzz deep in your belly while you admire him. When he’s done parking, he catches his jacket and your purse on the backseat and gets out, making his way to open your door and offering you his hand to help you out of the car. You grab it and step out carefully. Once you’re securely out of the car, he closes your door and rests his jacket over your shoulders, helping you to slip your arms through the sleeves. Then, with your purse still over his arm, he locks the car and grips your hand, leading you both on the walk to the lobby to call for the elevator.

You squeeze his hand with both of yours and lean your head onto his arm while you wait for the lift, appreciating his presence, warmth and attention. 

“I’m glad you had fun today, baby,” he whispers and you tilt your head up to find his eyes already searching for yours.

You smile at him. “So much fun. I’m so happy, Anton.”

His eyes shine seeing the true joy exuding from your body. “If my girl is happy, I’m happy.”

His admission makes you want to get closer, so you turn to stand in front of him, tugging slightly on his shirt collar to get him to bend down over you. “Thank you, baby.”

“For what?” He asks, an eyebrow shifting slightly up.

“For being happy for me and with me. For celebrating with me today,” you say, looking deep into his eyes.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, baby,” he whispers while his arms cross over your waist, pressing your body against his. “I want to celebrate this and so much more with you.”

“Yeah?” You mutter back, getting on your tippy toes as you watch him with hooded eyes. “Like what?”

He slides one hand up to rub your face, pulling you in to speak over your cheek. “Like when you get the editor-in-chief position next.” He drops a kiss on your cheekbone and moves his lips to your jaw next. “And when I finish my residency.” A new kiss is laid on your chin and another one on the corner of your mouth. “Then our engagement, our wedding…”

“Ahh, so you do plan on proposing,” you tease, leaning back to get your face out of reach from his lips. “It’s taking so long I’m starting to think you’re just stringing me along.”

Anton tightens his hold on your waist. “Stop it, you know I’m planning on it.” He moves his free hand to your nape to pull you close again, his lips one more time landing on your cheek. “You’ll just have to wait and see. It will be perfect. You’ll bawl your eyes out.”

“With how easy you get emotional, I think you’ll be the one bawling, Tonie,” you say, pulling on his hair a little while he rasps his teeth on the side of your neck.

“Oh, for sure,” he says, his voice muffled by his lips constantly pressing on your skin. “We’ll both be crying messes once the ring is on your finger.”

You chuckle at him and pull his head back to look at him, watching his mouth become an adorable pout at being denied kissing you more. “I can’t wait for this mysterious proposal, then.”

Anton’s pout turns into a wide smile. “I can’t wait to wife you up.”

You smile back at him, the thought of being his wife, of calling him your husband sending butterflies flying in your stomach.

The elevator finally arrives then, and you both get inside. Anton presses the number for your floor and slumps against its wall before the lift begins to move up, his arms settling around you and pressing you to his body again. You wind your arms around his shoulders and press a kiss onto his clavicle, making him groan, his hips instinctively moving forward to press against yours.

“Aren’t you eager today?” You mutter, looking up to find a flush creeping onto his cheeks. “What has gotten into you?”

“You’re just so happy right now. And I want to make you even happier.” He holds you flush against him while he nuzzles his nose against yours. “Wanna make you feel so good…”

“Oh.” You press your lips to his quickly, smoothing your thumbs on the sides of his neck. “I’d like that very much.”

“Plus, I’ve been thinking about something…” he says, gaze holding yours steady, building tension.

“Thinking about what?” You whisper, the expectation blooming on your chest.

Anton doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moves his face to drop kisses on your shoulder, his nose skimming under the jacket so his lips can reach your skin. He trails a path of kisses from your right shoulder until the place under your right ear, nibbling on your lobe while you whine. That’s when he finally replies, his breath blowing over the damp skin he just kissed, “Thinking about being a little possessive tonight, a little harsh…”

His words make your breathing heavy and warmth spread through your body. You tug on his hair, your mind getting dazed from his teasing. “Like, you wanna be mean?”

He shakes his head and places his hand on your face, stroking your cheekbone. “Not mean. Just taunt you, mess with your mind a little.”

“Oh,” you whimper, pressing your thighs together while mulling it over your mind, remembering all the times he teased you in bed and how it always made you feel. “I like it when you do that.”

“I know you do, baby,” he whispers, moving his mouth to your jaw. “You always get so—”

“Yeah, I do,” you say, your voice a little high pitched, suddenly feeling self-conscious of being this close to him and thinking dirty things in the elevator. You can only hope there’s no audio on the camera by the corner that’s aimed directly at you both.

You hide your face on Anton’s neck and he snickers at you. “So, you’re up for it?”

You nod, the embarrassment shining red on your cheeks and heating your skin. “Sure, let’s do it.”

Anton rests his chin on top of your head and digs his fingers on your hips as he squeezes you against him. “If you dislike something, you remember the word, right?”

“Pineapple,” you say against his skin, reciting your safe word to him so he knows you remember.

“Good girl,” he purrs, tightening his grip on you.

When the elevator finally dings and its doors open on your floor, you and Anton both scramble up to get to your apartment as fast as possible.

As you type the code for your door, you think about how the night was fun enough until now. You drank cocktails, danced to songs, hugged your friends, screamed your lungs out in happiness and enjoyed your time. It was really really good. But there’s only one thing left to end this perfect day, one thing left to take the fun to the next level. It’s the one thing that’s been nagging at your mind, body and soul the whole time you were at the nightclub. The only thing you can think about after that spicy elevator ride — having Anton all to yourself.

So when the both of you cross the threshold of your place and take your sneakers off and your purse is out of Anton’s hand, you corner him into your entry door, kissing him fervently, slipping his jacket off your body and dropping it to the ground. Anton responds in kind, pressing his lips to yours just as hastily. When your tongue traces his bottom lip, he opens his mouth for you to invade it with, and when you stroke his tongue, he groans.

“You look so fucking good today,” you whisper on his lips, your fingers deftly undoing his shirt buttons. “I wanted to jump your bones the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

“You look so beautiful too, baby,” he mutters back at you, complimenting you with his soft-spoken voice and gentle demeanor.

Your sweet, loving, kind man. You love him so much. 

When you kiss him again and your nails scratch over the exposed skin of his chest, he moans, sliding his hands down your ass and pressing your body against his. You gasp from the feeling of his dick already twitching and fully erect inside his pants, your mouth opening up in surprise. He takes the moment to kiss you again, licking the inside of your mouth and biting your bottom lip, pulling on it a little before releasing it.

“I kept thinking about being inside you the whole time we were out, too,” he says with his lips over your neck, nipping on your pulse point. He licks the place and speaks against the moistness, making your skin jump. “I’m gonna fuck you so good today, Miss Editor.”

Your filthy, dirty, hot man. You love him so much.

You whimper from his words, trembling hands trying to finish unbuttoning his shirt. Before you can, Anton is lifting you up on his lap, and you yelp in surprise. You both giggle as he strides towards your bedroom and supports you with his hands on your ass, but you give up on laughing in favor of kissing him again, your lips becoming moist with spit. You don’t know how Anton manages to find your room while he keeps kissing you, but in just a few seconds he’s laying you over your silky sheets.

You stretch on the bed, moving further back until you’re positioned in the middle. Anton stands in front of you while he opens the rest of his shirt and you watch as more of his skin is revealed. After he’s done with it, he unbuckles his belt and opens his fly, showing the bulge under his boxers. You lick your lips at the sight.

He leaves his pants on, though, and kneels on the bed, crawling over until he reaches you. You sit up to run a hand on his front, from his chiseled pecs to his taut abs until it stops on his happy trail on his lower stomach.

He bends down to kiss you and your arms go around his shoulders to pull his shirt away from him completely. Anton helps you slide the fabric off his arms and once you throw it on the floor, his hands are pulling up your top over your head, your shirt also being off in an instant. Then he’s pressing his body on yours and laying you back on the mattress.

“God, would you look at you,” he says once your head is resting on the pillows, tracing a hand over your stomach and raising goosebumps over your skin, eyes shining while he looks at your chest. “So fucking pretty. I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

There’s a reverent and low tone to his voice that always turns your insides into mush on moments like this. You press your legs against each other from the praise and tighten your grip on his shoulders, trying to kiss him one more time to show how much you appreciate it, but Anton rears back slightly, his eyebrows shooting up and eyes encouraging you to say what he wants to hear. 

“I’m all yours, Tonie,” you say with heavy breathing and he smiles approvingly. “Only yours.”

“Yeah, baby?” He mutters, his hand covering your boob over your bra. You gasp while he squeezes your flesh. “Seeing your past fling today didn’t confuse you? You didn’t think about leaving me for him, did you?”

It’s like a bucket of icy cold water is thrown on you. Anton’s words shock you to the core and you look at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Thinking about being a little possessive, he said. You never thought it would show up like this, though. You played with jealousy in bed before, of course, but it was always with creative scenarios — celebrities, fictional characters, strangers in the street, unnamed imaginary people. The line was drawn at real people in your life. You’ve never considered using any of your exes, friends or close acquaintances.

But Anton is changing that now by talking about Sungchan and your meeting with him earlier. And you know him well enough to decipher his words and body language, to know that he’s jealous. For real. 

Even though he has no reason to be.

Honestly, Sungchan was the furthest thing from your mind all night, your encounter with him long forgotten while you had the time of your life with Anton and your friends. You can’t quite believe your amazing boyfriend is actually insecure about it. But he is.

You blink up at him, still stunned to silence, and Anton sighs, annoyed by your lack of response. “Did you, love?” He asks again, squeezing your breast a little harder. 

The action springs you to life. “I— No, no, baby. Not at all,” you stutter out as he pulls down the lacey cup of your bra and circles his forefinger around your areola. “What made you— shit, what made you think that?”

Anton pinches your nipple then, making you arch your back and moan. ”I just think you spent too much time talking. Seemed like you were having fun, too, smiling and flirting with him.” He ends his sentence with another press on your nipple, harder than the last one, rolling the bud in between his thumb and forefinger to soothe the ache right after whilst you pant under him.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you defend yourself quickly. “I mean, he was flirting, but I didn’t—”

“Oh, was he, baby?” He asks, eyebrows going up. “And how did you respond to his flirting?”

Anton’s eyes are dark, hooded and lust-filled while he waits for your answer. There’s something about the jealousy and possessiveness he’s exuding that makes you whimper, feeling the release of more arousal into your panties. He looks so fucking hot. But you can’t have him thinking that you would trade him for Sungchan. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“I rejected him. I’m with you and he saw it. I told him how happy you make me,” you stutter. Anton just looks at you, analyzing your words in silence. It fills your heart with desperation. “Baby, I didn’t even think about him after that, I promise.” You reach your hands towards his face, but he remains out of reach, making you paw at the air. “There’s no reason to be jealous, Anton.”

He scoffs at you, tweaking your nipple one more time while his other hand goes around your chin, gripping it tightly. You moan loudly at the action and his thumb starts to trace over your areola again when he speaks. “I’m not jealous.” He hovers above you again and presses his nose to yours, looking down your eyes. “But he sure seemed like he was, talking shit about you two hooking up in the past. Like he had the right to act territorial over you when you’re my girl.”

“Baby, I don’t want to talk about him now,” you plead, your words coming out jumbled from the way he’s now pressing his fingers on your cheeks. At seeing your struggle, he loosens his grip a little and you’re able to speak better. “Please, let’s just—”

“So, what more did you tell him about me?” He asks, purposely interrupting you and ignoring your plea at the same time.

“I told him you’re amazing. And that you treat me so well, that I love you so much,” you babble out, mind racing trying to remember everything you said.

“Hmmm, and what else?” He says, his face still so close to yours.

”What do you mean, what else?” You gulp down, looking up at him.

Anton softens at your question, smoothing his fingers over your features and kissing on your pulse point. Then he descends, sucking on the upper part of your boob, tongue slipping out to flick your nipple. “I mean, did you tell him about this?” His hand moves to your other breast, still bra covered, blunt nails scratching the fabric down so his thumb can press on your nipple. “Or about this?”

Fuck. Anton wants you to lie.

Actually, he wants you to pretend like you’ve told Sungchan about your sex life, that Anton’s so good at it you boasted about his skills to your past affair. What he wants is an ego boost, to know that he’s still the only one that gets to have you like this. So much so that you needed to tell your ex how he makes you his.

It’s a little crazy. And adorable. And fucking hot.

“I did,” you whisper and Anton purrs on your neck, his hips grinding down on yours. “I told him how you always make me feel so good, how your fat cock stretches me just right.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, sinking his teeth on your skin. You tug on his hair while bucking your pelvis up to meet his. You love the way he melts into you so easily, how just a little praise gets him weak, even when he’s the one in control. It always makes you confident.

“I told him I’m too obsessed with how you fuck me to ever think about leaving you, baby,” you whisper in his ear, one hand going down to press on his ass so he can drive his hips down harder, the stimulation on your clit over all the clothes getting to you. “And that I’d never trade you for him, not in a million years.”

After that, Anton kisses you with so much force your teeth clash together. But you don’t care about it, letting him kiss you while you grip on his shoulders and press on his back so he keeps grinding down on you. You only break for air when he unfastens your bra, going right back into kissing him while he slides the straps down your arms and takes the button of your skirt out of its loop.

Anton pulls back to tug on the bottom of your skirt and you help him out by pulling your waistband down and wiggling your hips until the item is out of your body. You’re almost laid bare before him and he rests a firm hand on your lower stomach while he drinks you in, his other hand reaching up to cup your breasts, one after the other and then back again. You see his dick jump inside his underwear as his eyes devour you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty when you’re like this for me,” he says and you moan at him, hands trying to coax him back into putting his weight on you. “My perfect girl with her perfect body,” he praises, his free hand going up your body until his fingers meet your lips. He doesn’t need to command you to take them. You do it willingly, opening your lips to suck on his index and middle fingers greedily. Anton hums in approval. “Perfect mouth and tongue.” He pulls his fingers from your mouth and moves them over to your right boob, brushing wetness on your areola before moving to your left one and doing the same. “Perfect tits.” He slides his hand down still, navigating it through the valley between your breasts and the plush flesh of your stomach until it brushes over the waistband of your panties. He caresses over the top of the fabric, and you try not to whimper pathetically or squirm too much. Then, he finally slips his hand in between your legs, cupping your cunt harshly over your underwear. “And perfect pussy.”

“Baby, please,” you moan out. “Please touch me.”

He snickers at your desperate state, but hooks his fingers on the sides of the elastic band and pulls them down. You release a deep breath when the underwear is finally off you and another one when Anton’s hands go back to your body. “Fuck, imagine if Sungchan could see you right now, love,” he says, his right hand coming back to one of your nipples to pinch it again as his left one strokes the inside of your thighs. “If he could watch how much of a pathetic mess you get for me. So fucking desperate.”

“Anton,” you moan as his hand inches closer to your heat and he presses his palm on your left thigh to separate it from your right one, spreading you open before him.

“I wish he could hear how pretty you sound while you whimper my name like that, baby,” he says, moving his free hand to your bottom lip again and tapping on it. You open up, taking three of his fingers into your mouth now, licking over them and sucking on them. He presses his digits deep, reaching for your throat and you gag on them, but still don’t let him pull them from your mouth, closing your hands over his wrist to keep them there. “I wish he could watch you suck on my fingers and gag on them just like that, my perfect girl.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth as fast as he slipped them in, getting his hand out of your hold and moving his damp digits to your pussy. You almost let out a squeal when he rubs on your clit, spreading your legs further apart for him. You look at his face while he watches the movements he makes on your cunt, his other fingers rubbing over your folds as his thumb keeps pressing on the nub on top of it. “I wish he could see how wet you are right now. You’re going to soak our sheets, love.”

You bite on your lip, gripping the sheets and planting the soles of your feet on the mattress while he remains kneeled in between your legs bringing you pleasure. “It’s your fault. You always get me so wet. I’ve been like this since the elevator.”

“Hmmm, I know, baby,” he mutters appreciatively, eyes glued to the juices sticking to your cunt, his fingers noisily working over you. “You’re so naughty. Can’t help getting horny for me anywhere, right?”

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek now, moving your hips slowly with the movements from his hand. “Yeah. I want you all the time.”

“Fuck,” he groans and you see his dick jumping against the wet patch forming on his underwear. “I think Sungchan would love seeing how much of a whore you become for me.”

“Just for you, baby,” you affirm between moans.

Anton’s gaze slides up to yours again whilst he starts to massage over your hole, the jealousy in it now fizzling out, leaving behind shiny heart-eyes for you. “Yeah, just for me. He can’t have all of that anymore, baby. He can’t see you or touch you or hold you or hear you or fuck you. Only I can, right?”

“Yes,” you groan, bucking your hips up when he finally slips one digit inside you, your walls contracting over it. “Only you can, baby. I’m your girl.”

“You’re my girl,” he repeats, adding another finger inside, making your head spin. “My perfect girl, I’m going to ruin you.”

Anton puts his free hand beside your head and hunches down so he can press his forehead against yours while his other hand keeps working your pussy slowly open. His long thick fingers plunge deep inside of you and it’s crazy how easy they slip in and out, your wetness making the slide smooth, even when he starts to make scissor motions and bending his knuckles.

“Anton,” you moan, touching his neck and trying to keep your eyes open to look at his flushed face. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah, baby?” He says with a sly smile, getting his fingers completely out of you at the same time to run over your pussy lips, making you whine in frustration from being empty again. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“I like how your fingers reach so deep inside me,” you grumble, trying not to close your eyes when you feel him grazing over your clitoris again. “Your cock, too. You’re so fucking big all over.”

“You like that I’m big?” He asks, rubbing little circles on your clit. 

You nod, scratching the nape of his neck to release some stress as he keeps teasing you. “I was afraid you wouldn’t fit the first time. But like I said, you always get me so wet.” 

“I do, don’t I?” He whispers, a sleek smile on his lips, focused eyes watching your every reaction to him.

His hands descend again, looking for your entrance, and you mewl when he finds it, his digits shallowly stroking it. You bite your bottom lip before replying to him. “You do. You’re so patient with me, too. I love how attentive you are.”

“Awww, sweet girl,” Anton coos, mocking your frenzied state, his lips curving up. “All of that praise just because you want me to finger you properly?”

You chuckle at his words. Of course he can read you like an open book. He always can.

You pull his mouth to yours to press a lingering peck on his lips, your hips grinding up to look for more friction. “I mean what I said,” you state over his lips, giving him pleading eyes. “But doesn't your sweet girl deserve a reward for inflating your ego?”

He snickers and kisses the corner of your mouth. “Of course you do, baby.”

Then he’s inserting two of his fingers inside you again, the stretch making you open your mouth in a big ‘O’ and squeeze his shoulders. He’s still relaxed with it, delicately rubbing your walls, slowly bringing you pleasure.

He kisses the moles on your shoulder and you crane your neck to the side, silently asking for more smooches on your skin. He chuckles and follows your silent request, pressing his kisses on your neck and clavicle.

“I love giving you what you want, baby,” he whispers, his thumbnail grazing under your clitoris. “You look so good taking it.”

You try so hard concentrating on what he’s saying, but the pace of his fingers inside you is slow and deliberate, making you dizzy with want, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You’re so good to me,” you reply after a beat passes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he confesses back, his lips now on your right boob.

He keeps kissing you and licking every part of your body his mouth can reach, sucking on your skin and marking you all over. When his kisses travel down your stomach, his fingers start to curl up in your pussy, and you hitch a breath when he comes face to face with it. He presses his free hand down on your lower belly and looks up to see your hazy eyes focused on him. He smirks, adding a third finger and you feel more juices coming out of you, enveloping his fingers in a slick mess. 

He looks down again, now laser-focused on your heat. “My baby’s got such a pretty pussy. I love to watch you from here.”

“Just watch?” You ask, your voice already hoarse from moaning.

He cocks his head to the side, as if he has no idea what you mean. “Why, baby? You want me to do something else?”

You move a hand to his face, thumb rubbing his cheek while your other fingers press on his neck, trying to get him closer to your cunt. He resists you easily, your hold on him being too weak in the state you're in.

“Anton,” you groan, giving him puppy eyes again. “Please.”

He sets his eyes firm on yours. “Ask for what you want with your words and I’ll give it to you, baby.”

“I w-w-want,” you stutter, your breath coming out ragged. “I want your mouth.”

“Where?”

You expel a frustrated sigh before replying. “On my clit, please.”

“You got it, babe.”

You’re expecting him to lick at your bud, but Anton surprises you by enveloping his whole mouth around it and suctioning hard.

“Oh my fuck,” you moan, hips bucking up as he combines speeding his fingers inside you and sucking on your clit with an enthusiasm that has you seeing stars. You try opening your legs more to feel it all and give him space, and he follows your cunt in every wiggle of your body.

“Sweetest pussy ever,” he says after retreating a little. “Can’t get enough of your taste, baby.”

Then he’s back at it, licking up at you, swift and strong strokes of his tongue going from your entrance to your clit and slurping up your juices. You squeeze his neck and move your hand up the top of his head to ruffle his hair and tug on his strands, earning a groan from him that vibrates through your whole body.

You move your free hand to grab at his forearm pressing on your belly. He looks up at you and grabs your hand, his fingers slipping on the space between yours. He moves both of your hands to press on your body again, bending his wrist up to keep your palms connected as his veins become prominent from the force he’s applying, making him even hotter. You ground yourself with his hand on yours, feeling his affection enveloping your body and soul.

You love when he eats you out just like this — hungry eyes gazing directly at you, hand linked with yours, messy hair from your pulls and a skilled experience years of getting to know your body gave him. It always makes you feel close to him and also never fails to drive you crazy.

He goes back to sucking at you in rough and messy intakes and the fingers inside you start to move deeper and harder. You lose eye contact, resting your head against the pillows as a prolonged moan of his name makes its way out of your lips. When it subsides into hoarse whimpers and cries, you begin to feel the bed shake and look down again. You see Anton is rutting his hips on the space in between your legs, jolting both of you with every one of his thrusts. The movement somehow helps with the feeling of his fingers inside of you, making them quicker and sharper, and you scratch on his shoulder from how good it all feels.

Anton catches your gaze again and tightens his hold on your hand, rearing back to lay kisses on your thighs while he speaks to you. “I’m so damn hard for you, baby.”

You press your nails on his skin again, probably leaving marks. Thinking about his hard dick and how his thrusts on the sheets could be inside you has you trembling with want. “I want it, Tonie. Need your thick cock inside me so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you after you cum for me one time, okay?” He asks, thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“Yeah, okay,” you breathe out, nodding at him.

He nips the inside of your left thigh. “You’re feeling good, right?”

You nod again, neck straining from the sensations moving through you. “So good. You’re so good at this, fuck.”

He gives your other leg the same attention, rasping his teeth on your skin. “You close?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Hmmm,” he ponders for a bit. Then he shifts his wrist slightly and bends his fingers in your cunt, finding that spongy spot inside you. “What if I do this?”

Your mouth hangs open in a hoarse moan, hips lifting up on instinct, trying to meet his hand. “Tonie, shit, that’s it. Please don’t stop.”

“Found it,” he whispers to himself, a smirk playing on his lips.

Anton’s mouth comes back to your clit, sucking and licking on it nonstop while he keeps his knuckles crooked inside you, driving his fingers in with more force and speed each time they slide out. He presses down your lower belly with more vigor, putting some of his weight into it, and you start to feel the crushing pleasure from inside and out. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, so you close your thighs on his head and hand, rest your feet on his shoulders and swivel your hips to the best of your ability given the force he’s applying on you, trying to meet his frantics movements, looking for more friction, more satisfaction, just more.

The noises become louder and harder to ignore, driving you to insanity. The squelching sounds from his fingers and your wetness, the slippery suction of your intimate flesh, the creaking of the bed, Anton’s soft groans pulsating through you, the rustling of the sheets, your own moans and whimpers coming out broken.

There’s sweat on Anton’s forehead and you brush his hair back, giving you a perfect view of his shiny black eyes and how he’s devouring you whole. Not only his fingers and mouth, but his mind and soul are working intently to get you to your high.

Your pussy starts to flutter around his digits, gripping them and sucking them in. You feel your muscles straining, tensing and relaxing repeatedly, twitching under your skin. Your legs are shaking, your fingers on Anton’s hair and hand trembling, your throat producing incoherent sounds and a familiar churning growing on your core.

You’re sure you can feel each one of your boyfriend’s three fingers rubbing at your walls, prodding at the sweet place deep inside you, when you become restless. Your impending orgasm creeps up on you unexpectedly, fast flames licking at your ankles, knees and elbows and spreading like wildfire to your limbs and torso, blowing your mind.

Then you feel it. The way your stomach contracts against Anton’s hand, how the weight over it is almost unbearable, a crushing presence urging you to peak. It makes you panic, hand gripping over Anton’s hand so hard your knuckles turn white and your nails dig into his skin.

“Baby, baby, wait, I’m—” You try to warn, but it’s too late. You’re cumming, your orgasm wrecking through your body and a clear and short stream of liquid pouring out of you and hitting your boyfriend on the chin. You’ve just squirted.

You’re instantly ashamed, covering your face with your hands, but Anton is unaffected by it. He just withdraws his face from your cunt, pins one of your legs to the bed and keeps pressing his fingers deep inside you, his thumb replacing his lips and moving messy and loud circles on your clit. Through the crack in between your fingers, you see his tongue poking out and licking down his chin and lips, his eyes set on your pussy, still trying to bring you the utmost pleasure.

He works you for a moment while your orgasm courses through you, and when the flames finally subside, you move your hand to push on his wrist, while tears brim your eyes and your jaw and throat hurt from all the moaning. Only then he pulls back completely, sitting on his haunches, resting his hands over his thighs and watching your chest heaving and the red flush all over your skin.

“I knew you’d soak our sheets,” he says, voice soft and frazzled.

You whine, closing your legs in embarrassment and pressing the heels of your hands on your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Your gargled words have Anton touching and hovering over you again, rubbing at your ankle and kissing your hip bones, one after the other. “Hey, hey, none of that, please.” His hand moves up to your waist and he trails a thread of kisses on your whole stomach. “You always look so sexy when you do that, baby.” He smooths his palms on your elbows, coaxing you to open up so he can see your face. “I wanted you to do it. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

You just whimper again, not loosening up to the pressure of Anton’s hands. 

He moves his hands to yours, rubbing on your knuckles. “Come on, baby. Let me see your pretty face all red.” He places a kiss on your left shoulder. “Wanna kiss you, please.”

You reluctantly pull your hands away, but you press your left cheek on the pillow so he can only see your profile. He chuckles and cradles your face on both of his hands, moving your head straight so he can see you clearly.

“There you are,” he coos, his thumbs swiping at the tears collected on your waterline. “Hi, love.”

You give him a pout and look down. “Hi.”

“Look,” he starts, voice soft and eyes kind. “I have no idea why you get so ashamed when that happens, but you need to know it’s fucking hot. Like, I wish it would happen everytime.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you mumble out, tracing patterns on the skin of his right shoulder, still not meeting his eyes.

“No, I’m not. Baby, some guys only dream of making their girlfriends squirt,” he explains. You flinch at the last word. “I get to do it every once in a while and it feels amazing.” He shifts his face so you have no choice but to look directly into his eyes. “Does it feel like that for you, too?”

You sigh deeply, his reasoning infiltrating your mind. “Yeah, it does.”

“Then stop ruining this for you,” he says with finality. “It’s a body reaction, it feels good, and you like it. So why not enjoy it? It’s not a bad thing, love.”

“Okay, you’re too reasonable for someone that just blew my brains out,” you complain, weakly pushing his face. “Stop, please.”

Anton laughs, his chest rumbling against yours, and you smile back at him. When his lips peck yours, he puts his whole weight on your body to press his still hard length on your leg, the fabric of his jeans rough against your skin. “Reasonable while I’m hard for you, at that.”

You make a grumpy face at him. “You didn’t cum in your pants for me?”

He smiles wickedly. “I held it in for you.”

“Why would you do that?” You ask, an annoyed look taking over your face.

“Wanna cum inside you,” he whispers, nipping on your bottom lip.

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “I don’t think you deserve it, Anton.”

“I don’t deserve it after blowing your brains out?”

“You should’ve cummed with me the first time!” You exclaim, feeling heated over the subject. “Honestly, how much do you like me squirting when you can’t even soil your pants over it?”

He chuckles because of your defensiveness. “Here I was thinking you’d be glad because this way we can get right to it—”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He tilts his head to the side. “Huh?”

“My love,” you say calmly, trying to sound as patient as he was with you a minute ago. “I like to make you weak as much as you like to make me weak.”

“Ahhhh,” he mumbles, realization dawning on his features.

“So, next time be weak for me, all right?”

“Got it, love,” he says, giving you a happy smile you can’t help but return.

You move your hand to his face, feeling the softness of his underlip with your thumb. Then you’re pulling him in for a kiss and moving your tongue inside of his mouth. He tastes like your pussy and something still undeniably him, and you sigh against his mouth, sucking his tongue and biting his lips. He kisses you tenderly, tucking strands of your hair over your ear and massaging your shoulders. You can’t get enough of him.

When you separate for air, your eyes glint at his, hand going down to press on his bulge. “Great, now fuck me.”

Anton groans and bites your cheek. “You’re so romantic, baby.”

You laugh while you try to tug the waistband of his jeans down, but his hips being so close to yours hinder your actions. He gives you a peck and then slides down the bed to stand up, yanking his pants away and revealing his briefs, a moist patch on its front. Then he’s pulling that down, too, and his cock slaps against his abdomen while he kicks the clothes off.

You lick your lips staring at his puffy cock, moistness accumulated on his swollen tip. He goes back to the bed, climbing atop of you. You quickly wrap your hand around the root of his shaft, then collect his precum on his head to smear it all over his length. Anton whines, his forehead hitting your shoulder.

“So sensitive, right?” You whisper over his ear. “Maybe you wouldn’t be if you hadn’t held it in…”

He snickers, biting on your shoulder. “I said I got it, baby. Can we drop the subject now?”

You humph, squeezing his tip, earning a moan from him. “I’m just making a point here, pretty boy. I can tease too.”

“You tease me all the time by being you,” he whispers against your skin, moving his mouth to your neck. “Being annoyed at me only makes you hotter.”

You smile and kiss the end of his shoulder. “Well, then you should fuck your hot girlfriend, baby.”

He’s so quick to pull back from your shoulder that you almost laugh at him. “How do you want it?”

“Spoon me,” you say and he gets off of you so you can lay sideways.

Once you’re positioned, he comes behind you, chest pressing against your shoulder blades and left arm fitting in the space between your neck and the mattress to wrap around your torso, his hand gripping on your opposing shoulder. He places his other hand on the inside of your right thigh to separate it a little from the left one, getting his hips close to yours. His dick hits the swell of your ass and you wiggle your butt to feel more of it.

“You like that I get so deep like this, don’t you?” He taunts, lips on your earlobe raising goosebumps on your body.

You reach your hand back to grip on his hip bone. “Anton, just shut up and fuck me.”

You love the man, you really do, but sometimes — mainly in bed, when you’re horny and desperate — he just talks way too damn much.

“Alright, Miss Editor,” he says with a chuckle. “So impatient tonight.”

You feel his knuckles skimming against your skin as he grabs his dick to tap it on your cunt, his head sliding against your folds. You both sigh at the first contact, chests contracting and expanding at the same time, and you dig your nails at his skin. Then Anton is moving his hips back and positioning himself, his tip prodding at your entrance for a moment before he’s gliding inside in one swift motion until he bottoms out, your arousal making it smooth and painless.

Anton releases a sigh when his hips are flush against yours and you feel suspended in the air and filled, your chest falling forward, your back separating from his chest and your hands supporting yourself on the sheets.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, voice already strained.

Anton doesn’t let you be distant from him for too long. He pulls you right back against his body, hand moving down from your shoulder to your boob, and thrusts into you shallowly. 

“Stay with me, love,” he whispers in your ear.

You move your hand to grip onto his forearm, grounding yourself whilst you feel your pussy throbbing around him. “Tonie,” you say breathlessly. “Feels so full, so deep.”

He wraps his free arm around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him, rocking your hips forward together, making sure he’s buried within you to the hilt. “That’s why you chose this position, right?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his wrist. “Can you move, baby?”

You feel him nod against your neck and a moment later he’s going almost all the way out, letting only his tip inside, and then pushing forward again, until he hits your deepest walls. He does it three times in a row and it’s like you can feel him all the way from your core to your lungs, his thrusts pushing air right out of you and leaving you breathless.

You move your hand back to his hip again for support.  Anton takes the moment to slide his hand down your butt, fingers spreading around one of your ass cheeks as he rests the top of his head between your shoulder blades to watch the way you take him in, keeping his thrusts slow and steady.

“Look at the way your pussy takes my cock, fuck,” he says, groaning in between his words. “Always stretching up for me so good, wrapping all around me.”

“Anton,” you moan, aiding his movements with your hand, trying to pull him closer and deeper inside you.

He starts pressing kisses over your skin and his hand lightly slaps your ass, rubbing the place right after, the sting making you clench around him. “I could live inside this pussy forever.”

His words get to you, like it always happens, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Would you like that, baby?” He whispers, his lips pressing on your neck, the hand on your boob flicking your nipple. “I bet you would. You love having me inside of you.”

You nod, sure that he can see you. “Yeah. I’m obsessed with—” The next words die in your mouth, replaced by a hiss when his hand pulls your leg up, changing the angle slightly.

“Obsessed with what, baby?” He asks, as if he’s not making your train of thought weaker by the second.

“With you… and your cock,” you say through gritted teeth while he starts to speed his pace. “Just obsessed. Love the way you fill me up.”

You’re not lying. You are obsessed with his dick. Truefully, you’re obsessed with all of him. Probably just as much as he’s obsessed with you. You make the hottest maniac couple possible.

You can’t see his face correctly, but you know he’s smiling because of the noise he makes, his smugness showing up from his sounds and the snap of his hips on yours. “I know you do, baby. Can’t get enough of this dick, right? You act like a little slut for it.”

“Jesus, baby…” You’re all out of words, your body and mind being consumed by him.

“My girl got a pussy made for me to fuck,” he praises, hand gripping your thigh so hard you’re a positive he’s bruising you. “Fucking perfect, made for me. Perfect for me.”

“You— you’re the one who’s perfect,” you stutter out, moving your lips to press kisses on his knuckles.

“You’re perfect for me and I’m perfect for you,” he states, his hand going from your thigh to your face, making you turn your head so he can look into his eyes. “We’re made for each other.”

And then he kisses you, stealing what’s left of your breath, tongue licking your lips and invading your mouth. After that, he taps two of his fingers on your lips and you take them in, sucking on them languidly as you give him the sultriest look you can muster. He smiles at you and puts the same fingers around your nipple, wetting it with your saliva as he twitches the peaked bud. His lips descend upon your neck to wrap around your other boob and he sucks on the neglected nipple. You moan and arch your back, driving your ass and hips back in time with his growing thrusts forward, mind going dizzy from how good you’re feeling.

Anton smiles around your breast, looking up at your face and you see in his eyes how much he loves driving you crazy. It makes you put your hands around his head and pull his lips back to yours, kissing him with all your might. You love him so much you think you might explode sometimes.

His hips start to hit you with more force and speed and you pull back for air, but keep his face close to yours, mouths still connected and breaths mingling whenever one of you moans, sharing kisses, licks and bites on each other’s lips.

“Love of my life,” Anton whispers over your mouth. “I love you so fucking much.”

From the very first time you fucked, Anton showed you how much he valued connection. Yes, you two love to try out freaky positions and new ways to pleasure each other. However, he said it time and time again the one thing that surpassed all of it was being close to you. Nothing could compare to the feeling of his skin against yours, of you being wrapped on his body and inside his embrace, gaze locking with yours and his hands being free to roam all around you.

He made you addicted to the feeling as well and without even noticing you started to always search for positions where he’d be pressed as close to you as possible.

The position you’re in right now is good, but not ideal, mainly after his thrusts became faster, his hips sending you lurching with each snap as his arms pulled you back to him, throwing your body back and forth. When he grabbed your face to kiss you, it just turned more uncomfortable, your body now twisted at the waist to keep looking at him as he pounds on you from behind.

You’re about to ask him for a change when he proves he’s one step ahead of you, slowing down his thrusts to a stop and rocking his hips one more time before pulling out. “Gotta change,” he says breathlessly, resting your thighs back on the mattress. “Need to look into your eyes while having you.”

“Should I ride you?” You ask, but he’s already moving over you and pushing your shoulder until your back hits the sheets, his other hand spreading your thighs open.

“Maybe for the second round,” he says and you chuckle, not quite believing he has the energy to think of doing all of this again. “Be my pillow princess for now, baby. Let me take good care of you.”

He sits on his haunches and secures your legs apart before moving a hand back to his cock, pressing on his leaking tip and then moving it down to the base. He teases you both for a second while he taps his cock on your folds, hissing with you in unison, and then he’s passing through your hole and pushing inside again, hips kissing yours.

You clench around him almost as an instinct and Anton throws his head back, reveling in the way you wrap around his cock, his hips pushing you forward. He lowers his chest to meet yours, caging you in between his arms that press on the sheets on both sides of your head, looming over you and dipping the mattress with his weight.

“Still soaking wet and tight for me even after we’ve done this a million times,” he says, pulling back slightly to drive inside you with more force. “You make it so hard to hold myself back.”

You move your hands to his neck, feeling his hair damp with sweat. “Don’t hold back. I want you to feel good.”

“Don’t worry.” He moves a hand to your waist, pressing you against the sheets and thrusting in again. “I always feel good when I’m inside you, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his lower back, crossing your ankles together and pressing your heels on his ass to force him to fuck you with more power. “Baby, you have no idea what you do to me,” you mumble, moving your lips to press on the apple of his cheek. “I feel like I’m addicted to you.”

Anton all but melts, slowing down to look directly in your eyes and pay attention to what you’re saying. “Yeah, baby?”

“I need you to know how much I need you,” you say, your voice starting to falter, your hands getting antsy and squeezing his shoulders. “I’d never ever think about replacing—”

He soothes you with a hand on your face, sweeping your hair back. “Shhh, I know, baby, I know.”

“No, you don’t.” You shake your head, eyes glazing over him. “I really don’t want anyone else. You’re the one for me.”

“I know, love,” he coos, stroking your face and kissing your temple. “You’re it for me, too, sweet girl.”

“I fucking love you,” you utter, your lips skiming against his at each word, in the same beat as he thrusts deep inside you. “Nothing— no one else measures up to this, you and me.”

He smiles, resting his forehead against yours. “You and me, baby. That's all that matters.”

You seal your vows with a kiss, your mouths clicking like puzzle pieces. Just like how your body fits beneath his, how his hands are carved to drag on your skin, how your fingers are modeled to grip his hair and your nails to rake through his back, how both of your moans sync up, harmonizing together, how his hips attach on the dip of yours, how his cock is suit to fuck you, how your pussy is made to suck it in.

There’s so many messy aspects of your lives, so much baggage you both carry. But this, being together, belonging with each other is what makes all the imperfection make sense, no matter how fucked up life gets.

Anton licks his way down from your lips to your neck, his mouth suctioning on your pulse point and his hands squeezing your waist. He’s still fucking you leisurely, every movement deliberate and intense, and from the way he digs his fingers into your skin and your moans make your throat hoarse, you know you’ll cum just like this.

“Shit, you’re so freaking perfect,” he chokes, his uneven breaths hitting your skin. “Perfect for me.”

You agree, lifting your hips up to move in tandem with his, chasing your high. “Yes, perfect for you.”

He bites on your earlobe, then speaks over it. “You’re gonna cum for me, my perfect girl? Gonna make a big mess on my cock?”

You speed up the movements a bit, trying to scratch the itch that gnaws at your lower belly, feeling yourself clenching over him. “Yeah, I’m so close, baby,” you gasp.

“That’s it, love, that’s it,” he says, pressing his face on yours again, nuzzling your nose. “You’re taking it so good. Such a good girl for me.”

He grabs one of your legs to crook it, fitting the back of your knee on the bend of his arm and stretching it up. The new move makes him plunge deeper inside you, his tip hitting the back of your walls, right on your g-spot.

“Oh my gosh, Anton,” you whimper, clawing at his lower back. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck, I love how whiny you get every time,” he says, soft and gruff, pressing his lips to your cheeks. “So desperate to cum for me.”

He wraps his forearm around your leg to reach for your pussy, digits rubbing on your clit at rapid pace, in contrast with his slow fucking. You grow agitated, curling your toes and bucking your hips, hands gripping any of his flesh you can reach and a string of broken moans falling from your lips. Anton gulps on each one of your sounds, lips rasping against yours as he moves his free hand to your lower back, pulling you more into him while you arch for him, both still trying to feel every part of you as possible. Your pussy is clenching around him without control right now and you feel your restraint slipping away with each passing second.

“Shit, you’re clenching on me so tight, baby,” he groans, and you see the burning under his eyes, how his hands get more antsy, too. “Gonna make me cum, too.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” you mutter like crazy, pressing a hand on his face to smooth down the place between his eyebrows where his skin is squeezed shut, obviously trying to hold himself back. “Anton, inside, please.”

That’s what does it for him. The desperate plea on your lips, how urgent your voice calls his name, asking him to give you his seed. He kisses you one more time and then he’s cumming, hot thick spurts filling you up and triggering your own orgasm. It hits you right in the chest, stealing all breath while you chant his name like a religious hymn.

Anton doesn’t stop, because he never does. He frees your leg and sits on his haunches, grabbing your hips and making you ride the high together, still thrusting inside you whilst your cunt convulses around him, watching how white rings of your hole form around his swelled up cock, speaking nonsense. Once he’s almost done, he slowly dips inside you three more times, rocking his hips forward the most he can on the last one, until he can see his cum leaking out of you from how much he gave you.

He stays connected with you and sinks back down on the bed, fitting his head on the space between your neck and shoulder. You stay silent for a while, letting your labored breath slow down while you’re both brought down from the peak. You notice how loud you were being. The absence of your moans, the rustling of the sheets, of your skin slapping together and your headboard hitting the wall is calming right now, but it also stresses you for a whole different reason.

You rub on Anton’s shoulders and tilt your head to the side to kiss his cheek. “These walls are thick, right?”

He opens his tired eyes to look at you. “Scared we’ll get a noise complaint, baby?”

“I mean, we can’t afford being expelled from the building, Anton,” you say firmly in response to the humour in his voice.

He chuckles and drops a kiss on the bridge of your nose. “Relax, baby. They can’t expel us until we get like three strikes.” 

You look at him quizzically. “What does that mean?”

“Like, we have to be notified three times for the same wrongful behavior,” he explains. “I read the condo regulations when we got this place.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “What did you read it for?”

“Hmm, moments like this?” He says with a teasing smile. “We both know how loud you can get.”

You roll your eyes and push at his shoulder, annoyed. “Get up, you’re all sweaty.”

He doesn’t back down, instead getting his face all up on yours and kissing your cheek. “You like it when I get sweaty.”

“Not like this,” you say, truly feeling sticky with his hot skin still pressed on yours. You try to push him off you, but he doesn’t even budge. “Seriously, baby, I feel gross. And we need to showeeer.”

He tightens his hold around you and pouts. “Gimme a kiss first.”

You give in to him, pressing your lips on his for the last time before he finally lets up, getting off your body, his softening cock pulling out of you. You feel more of his cum dripping out of you as you sit up and move your shaky legs to the side of the bed. Anton follows your movement, staying on his knees and pressing soft kisses on your spine whilst you breathe deeply.

“My hot, annoyed girlfriend,” he whispers on your skin. “I’ll have to fuck you again if you keep up with this act.”

You finally laugh as he kisses his way up your shoulders. “Well, you’re annoying sometimes! Always teasing me, even when I asked you not to!”

“I’m sorry, my love,” he says on your neck. “Would you forgive me if I carry you to the bathroom princess style?”

You pretend to muse on the thought. “Hmm, maybe.”

The next moment he’s up and wrapping one arm around your back and the other under your knees, picking you up to carry you to the en-suite bathroom. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his clavicle as he walks and a few seconds later he’s dropping you back to the ground.

“Start without me and I’ll join you in a minute,” he says before giving you a long peck on the lips. “I have to take care of the big mess you left on our sheets.”

He turns his back to you and you swat at his butt for that comment. “See? Annoying!”

Anton just laughs as he gets out of the bathroom, leaving you to it. You sigh and get on the toilet, analyzing your frazzled state in the mirror while you pee. Your hair sticks at odd places, your eyes look glassy and your skin is covered in perspiration and link marks. The boy said he would ruin you and ruin you he did. You sigh happily, the thought making you giddy.

After you clean yourself, you walk on still wobbly legs to your side of the bathroom vanity to grab a hair tie, then move to the shower to turn the faucet on. You brush back your strands with your fingers while you wait for the water to warm up, checking in the mirror that your hair looks decent enough before tying it in a firm bun. You step into the shower stream, then, letting it wash away all the grime and remnants of your lovemaking. Anton joins you a few minutes later, pressing his chest on your back so the water stream hits him, too. You hum contendly when he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

His aftercare is the best, as always. He cleans you and himself up almost all on his own. You notice how he initially reaches for your body wash, but ends up brushing it aside to grab his body wash, lathering you up with bubbles. You keep your lips sealed about it as he scrubs you softly with your violet sponge, even getting down on his knees to brush it over your legs and feet, making you laugh. He also lets you hog the stronger stream of water, too busy kissing and caressing your skin to care for it. It all feels so good you start to feel sleepy. Once you’re done, he wraps you both in your matching fluffy white robes and pulls you back with him to the bedroom, kissing your lips again.

As you step in the bedroom, the room feels chilly and fresh, the pine scent of your air freshener spray lingering in the air. Your bed is made with new crispy white sheets and a pair of Anton’s pajamas rest over the quilt. He grabs the bottoms and starts to put them on and you move to your wardrobe to catch a nightie for you. But he’s quick to pull you back to him by your wrist, the top part of his pajamas in hand.

“Would you mind wearing this tonight?” He asks, voice soft and careful. “Please? For me?”

It’s funny how he’s gingerly requesting you something while towering over you, big shoulders and arms on display. A strong bulky man turned uncertain and sweet in front of his much weaker and dainty girlfriend.

“Sure, baby,” you reply, opening your robe and letting it fall off your shoulders. You reach your arms up and look at Anton expectantly. “Can you help me put it on, please?”

He gives you a giddy smile and rushes to do just that, helping by putting his shirt on you, first passing your arms through the holes first and then your head. He pulls it down until the comfy fabric hugs your body nicely and the bottom of it reaches until a little past your butt. With this, you’re completely wrapped around Anton's scent. Which definitely was his goal all along.

He makes it crystal clear when he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up and putting his nose right on your neck and inhaling deeply. “You smell so good, baby.”

You giggle, crossing your arms over his neck. “I smell like you, you mean.”

He pulls back with an embarrassed smile, a pink tint flushing his ears. “Exactly.”

You press your hand on the nape of his neck and pull him down to kiss him languidly. Anton hums happily on your lips, sitting down on the bottom of the bed and moving you to his lap. You sit with your legs perpendicular to his and wrap yourself tightly in his embrace, giving smooches on his face and neck.

When you pull back, Anton is smiling like a school boy at you. “Oh, I already ordered some jajangmyeon and fried chicken for us. It should be here in a few minutes,” he tells you.

You smile back at him and move a hand to your now growling stomach at the mention of your favorite comfort food. “Wow, you really are the love of my life.”

He nods proudly and grips your hand to press kisses onto your open palm. You trace the lines of the muscles on his shoulder with your free hand while he does it, scouring your mind for a way to softly broach the subject of his obvious jealousy.

Then you sigh and decide to just rip the bandaid off. 

“So, uh,” you start uncertain, and his eyes go to yours, showing he’s listening to you, his lips still pressed on your palm. “The Sungchan thing really bothered you, right?”

Anton tenses and pauses mid-kiss on your skin, his body becoming stiff under yours. He scrunches his eyebrows together and shrugs, trying too hard to seem laid back. “No, not at all. Does it look like I’m bothered?”

You bite on your lower lip and nod slowly, seeing his cheeks blushing.

“Oh,” he mutters after a beat, dropping your hand and looking down. “Well, I guess it did bug me a little bit, then.”

You scratch on his hair, trying to be supportive, and softly ask, “Can you tell me why, baby?”

“I don’t know,” he says, still looking down, suddenly very engrossed in pulling at a thread on his pants. “I mean, you told me all about him. And I think, maybe, knowing it all— Like how he was your first real thing, the first guy that you actually loved… It all made me a little insecure. And then he appeared out of nowhere and he’s obviously tall and handsome. And then he’s flirting with you, you said so yourself, and you’re chatting up with him all buddy-buddy—”

“I wasn’t buddy-buddy with him,” you say and Anton looks at you exasperated with the interruption, but you gaze back at him with an adamant expression. “We just talked. He heard about the promotion when I was speaking with you and asked me about it. Honestly, it didn’t mean anything to me, baby.”

“I’m not saying it meant something to you. But he was very obviously trying to get you, even after he saw you were committed. I’m not dumb, Y/N. It just upset me.”

“But I rejected him. Very clearly, at that — like no, thanks, you wouldn’t have a chance with me even if I didn’t have my amazing ass boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know all of that,” he huffs, still brooding. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a play by play of our talk while you ravaged me,” you say, voice full with sarcasm.

He gives you a pointed look. “You could’ve told me before that!”

“And how was I supposed to know you were so upset about it if you didn’t say something?” you counter. “I know I’m great and all, but I can’t read minds yet, Anton.”

He shrugs and pouts. “Anyway, you asked me how I felt about it and that’s it.”

“You’re so cute when you’re this jealous,” you tease, squishing his cheeks and finally getting back at him from all the ways he taunted you tonight. Anton glares at you and you soften up, holding his face tenderly, your thumbs rubbing at his jaw. “Look, baby, I meant every word I said. You’re it for me. There’s no one else, no ex or past fling that can whisk me away from you, especially not a fuckboy like him.”

He nods at every word out of your mouth, eyes understanding.

“I completely get why you felt troubled tonight,” you continue. “But I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it when I say it doesn’t matter what he or anyone else tries to do, I won’t leave you. You’re stuck with me, baby boy. No take backs. No running away. No cheating. It’s you and me until the end… okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he replies. His eyes are set firm now and you can tell he feels more confident by your reassurance. 

“You trust me, right?”

“I trust you, baby. And I feel the same way. You and me, always.”

“Always,” you nod, giving him a happy smile and looking him deep in his eyes. “I love you so bad.”

He visibly melts, his hands pressing on your waist again. “I love you, baby.” And a beat after he asks, “Was it okay, though? The possessive thing?”

You squint your eyes at him and stretch your arms around his back. “Well, I didn’t use our safe word…”

“I know, I’m just checking in,” he explains. “I  think I should’ve asked your color, right? But I was just so into it.”

“I was into it, too,” you confess, shimmying yourself further into his arms. “Honestly, it was freaking hot. You can do that again whenever you’d like.”

He laughs and pulls you closer, until your chest is flush against his. “Dirty girl.”

“What was it that you said again? That you’d love if he saw me like—”

“No, I said he can’t ever have you like that again. Never.”

“Never is such a strong word, baby,” you tease.

Anton’s eyes harden. “Is that your way of begging me to wreck you again? Because I will do it, Y/N,” he warns.

“I’m kidding!” You say, arms going up as if you're surrendering yourself. “Damn, tough crowd.”

“Wow, you should do stand up comedy, baby,” he sneers, still moping.

After that, you spend a while peppering kisses over his face to get him back to his smiling self and soon enough he’s cheerfully kissing you back.

“Oh, one more thing,” you say suddenly, rearing back to look at him. “You know what we talked about celebrating?” Anton nods and you barrel on. “I was thinking about how once you finish your residency, I’ll also be a year settled in my new spot at work. So we could totally take a few days off, maybe plan a big trip…”

“Oh, I like how you think, dirty girl,” he says and you jokingly slap at his arm. “No, seriously, that’s a great idea, love. Were you thinking about somewhere special?”

You nip at your bottom lip, nervous. “I was, actually.”

Anton moves his thumb to your mouth, brushing on your bottom lip to release it from your teeth. “Tell me, baby.”

“I was thinking… New Jersey,” you say with a smile.

Anton’s eyes widen at your answer and he corrects his posture a little, sitting up a little straighter. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his cheeks as his shocked bright eyes look at you. “I just want to know the place you grew up in. You already got to know all my family, my town, my school friends, everything… It’s only fair I get to know yours too, right?”

“Shit, I love you so much,” he says suddenly, catching you by surprise. He places his hands on your face and pulls you in, resting his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”

Heat rushes to your face because of his praise and you smooth your thumbs over the sides of his neck as he looks at you with stars in his eyes. It’s crazy how he still makes you feel like a shy schoolgirl after all this time. “I take it you like the idea, then?”

“I love it,” he whispers, pressing his lips on yours for a brief moment. “I can’t wait to show you around. And I’ll get to show you off to my friends, too!”

You smile seeing his happiness. “I’m glad you love it, baby. We should start planning it soon.”

He nods and pulls you to a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head. You hug him back just as tightly while you breathe together for a moment. Then Anton breaks the silence, “Wanna know what else we’ll get to do once we’re in New Jersey?”

“What?” You whisper.

Anton doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moves his face to drop kisses on your shoulder, making you sigh. It’s a simple action, but it already riles you up and ignites a flame on your core, and soon you’re whining in his arms. That’s when he finally replies, his breath blowing over the damp skin he just kissed, “I’ll get to fuck you on my teenager bedroom, too.”

“Shit, baby,” you whimper, tugging on his hair, feeling yourself flush with heat.

You press your thighs together while you think about it, the scenario automatically appearing inside your mind. You imagine Anton rushing you into his bedroom, how he’d get you on his twin bed and drop to his knees while taking your pants off. How he’d move a finger to his lips to ask you to be silent before he starts dropping kisses all over your thigh. And how he’d spread you apart and close his lips on—

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Anton asks, interrupting your imagination and you bite your lips at being caught red-handed.

“Yeah,” you reply faintly while he keeps kissing your body, his mouth now on your jaw. You let your hands wander over his chest and arms, pressing on the muscles he carefully built over the years.

“Filthy, dirty girl,” he mutters teasingly, digging his fingers on your hips as he squeezes you against him. “You really want me to destroy you again.”

“You started it!” You accuse, driving your pointer finger into his chest.

“And I’m gonna finish it, baby,” he says playfully, pulling you in to kiss you.

You kiss him back, letting his tongue invade your mouth, and then, just as the kiss starts to get more desperate, your hands roaming over each other, the doorbell rings.

You push on his chest and leap out of his lap. “Yay, food’s here.”

Anton shakes his head at your happiness state because of food when he’s already half-hard in his boxers. But he can’t help but smile when you beckon him to follow you, hollering giddily, “Let’s eat, my love!”

He’s on your tail a second later, wrapping his arms around your waist and hauling you up, making you squeal. “Yeah, let's eat so we can quickly get to the dessert after,” he whispers with his lips over the shell of your ear, making you shiver all over.

The next day, while you’re having a fresh cup of coffee Anton made for you, a small piece of paper is flown under your door. 

Anton grabs it and smiles, walking back to your kitchen table to place it down in front of you. 

You take a peek at it with sleepy eyes and then tilt your head up to him. “A noise complaint?”

He drops down just enough to put a hand on the back of your head and peck your mouth. Then he whispers proudly over your lips, “Strike one, baby.”

As he laughs, you roll your eyes at him, not believing this silly annoying man is the love of your life.

But you’re so happy he is.

This might be my most self-insert work to this date. So many of reader's struggles are inspired by my own life, and that's why this story is very very very dear to me. As always, comments are appreciated. You can also talk to me about the fic on my askbox or tip me on my ko-fi, if you want. As always, thank you for reading!

[ssentimentals]

Hiii!! I hope you're having a wonderful day when you read this~

Idk if you're still doing requests, but can I request 42. True Love's Kiss with Seungkwan? Even better if reader & seungkwan are in denial about loving each other but they kiss to break a curse and so it's like angsty and passionate bdjdjdkdkdk (like, the type where you lean your forehead against them after the kiss and dive in again sjskskks)

Please and thank you 🫶🏻

hiii, anon! thank you, so sweet! i'm having a wonderful day and i hope you are too, thank you for requesting :')

prompt: 'true love's kiss/breaking a curse'

'it says only true love's kiss can break the barrier,' you read out loud, sighing. 'well, shit.'

only you and seungkwan could be this lucky to stumble into that stupid trap. part of you wants to blame him for being so distracting, but you should've been on alert too; anyways, trying to figure out who's to blame here won't help the issue. and the issue at hand is huge - the barrier looks thin enough from the outside, but it glows in green, indicating that it's fully spell bound. while you were trying to translate everything what's written on the walls of the cave, seungkwan tried pretty much every single spell imaginable and nothing worked.

'i tried everything,' seungkwan mutters, confirming your thoughts. 'it's so weird it is to create a barrier like that.'

'we've seen weirder,' you say, shrugging.

seungkwan nods. you and him saw so much weirder stuff from all the time you went on missions together that this is hardly tops it all. however, this one is definitely the most uncomfortable one. seungkwan glances at you, trying to gauge your reaction. what are you thinking about it? true love's kiss thing? do you even believe in true love? seungkwan himself is not sure; he tries to think of a time when he's been in love and he can't really think of something. when he tries to think of love he sees... seungkwan swallows. he sees you smiling at him, when he did something good. he sees you laughing at one of his jokes. he sees you sleeping soundly on his shoulder, murmuring something in your sleep. he sees you dancing with no care in the world, radiating happiness and joy. is it strange than he sees you, when he thinks of love? seungkwan shakes his head. it can't be what he thinks it is. or... can it?

'i can't think of any counter spell,' you say, frowning. 'what else can we try to ruin this barrier?'

'the spell itself.'

'hm?' you turn to him questioningly. 'what do you mean?'

'i mean we can try the spell,' seungkwans explains patiently, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 'the true love's kiss.'

you tilt your head to the side, confused. 'it's only us here, seungkwan.'

seungkwan is aware. he is very aware of it, too aware probably. but what if- 'we don't have much choice, right?' seungkwan tries to play it off. 'we can just try and see. what if it works out?'

you look at him like he's crazy. seungkwan thinks he might be crazy if he sees you when he thinks of love, but what if? this what if itches inside his skin like nothing else. slowly to not spook you, he inches closer to you. 'cause like, it's just a kiss, right?'

'just a kiss,' you repeat, frozen at your place. your eyes never leave his and something in them makes seungkwan step even closer. 'seungkwan...'

'yes?' he breathes out, standing so close that your barely there flowery perfume fills his nostrils. he gently cradles your face in his hands, noticing how you swallow hard. it's good to know that he's not the only one who's nervous. 'if it doesn't work out then it's just a kiss.'

'and if it does?'

seungkwan answers with a kiss. it's tentative at first, just a press of lips against each other. and then you open your mouth and seungkwan is not strong enough to not dig in. he can't help it - kissing you is a whole another experience on its own. the sounds you make, the way you taste, the way you respond - seungkwan kisses you with everything he has and you kiss back the same. he pulls back to breathe, resting his forehead against yours.

'seungk-' you start but he kisses you again. it's too good to stop but then you pull away, pushing at his chest with your hands. 'seungkwan, wait-' you look at somewhere behind his back. 'the barrier...is gone.'

seungkwan turns around, not entirely shocked to see that barrier is indeed gone. which means- 'you are it,' he whispers, turning back to you. 'true love's kiss. true love. mine.'

he wants to say so much more. he wants to let you know that you are on his mind always, all the time, constantly- but then you both feel strong magic flow, which can be coming only from monsters. without saying anything he reaches out and you readily give him your hand.

'together?' he asks, smiling.

you nod, blushing. 'together.'

you two can talk later. talks about love can wait and they definitely will come as long as you two stay together.

a/n: this was soooo fun to write omg! spells are so interesting, hope you liked it, let me know! <3 - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[boycarofchilladelphia]

My friend, I can promise you the mormon church is far closer to most hate groups than it is to any standard religion. Both its formation and current rhetoric rely on the control of its members both in thought and action. The doctrine is based on the racist notion that it is the true history of the First Nations peoples of America and asserts that they were actually Jews escaping Jerusalem, a claim that only exists within the Book of Mormon and is refuted by dna evidence and ethnographic studies. The original text of the book of mormon (before the many rewrites) wrote that people would become white and delightsome (meaning of lighter skin) and that only those with white skin would be allowed into heaven. There have been passages describing the Nephites as white and Lamenites as darker skinned as they were blackened by the mark of cain. There are people who have been told that same thing and tried to pray away their dark skin. The entire rhetoric of the mormon church relies on people believing they are better than everyone else, that they alone know the secret truths that will get them into the celestial kingdom and become gods, that they alone look upon a world of filth and decay praying for the day that judgement finally dawns, that they alone know the true history of the native peoples of the Americas because they have simply "forgotten" the truth as they purged the only true believers from the land. You DO believe in a religion that thinks themselves higher than the world with sacred knowledge based on a lie of supposed great and lost people you are uniquely descended from. You play into this by ranking the supposed accuracy of claims against your church without even knowing the real history and formation of its conception. You uphold this same attitude as if other just are misinformed or just stupid while talking down to them like they're a child. You uphold this bastard churches ideals with your own hubris thinking its kindness. There is a reason as to why people view this church as a cult at best and breeding ground for fascist at worst. There is a reason why there was a cosplayer of Captain Moroni at the January Sixth Insurrection.

I know this will fall on deaf ears, I know that I shouldn't write this for my own mental health, but I also know what the mormon church did to me and many of my friends. I can't just let this slide. I owe it to myself to tell you what I wish someone would've told me. This church is nothing but a deeply racist, misogynist mess based in a fascist dream. I hope you will one day understand and find a better path. I would wish for nothing more than for you to read this out and internalize but I know better. I can only hope this softens your heart. I wish the best for you and your future, but not for your church. I hope one day you will take this for the olive branch that it is for your own sake.

Have a good life.

Before I dive into this ask, I gotta say, I was beginning to worry that I would never get anon hate on this site. Bless you for taking the time to brighten my day a little.

Anyway, in all seriousness, it's obvious that you and your friends have been deeply hurt by the Church. I can't apologize for the Church, but I can say that I'm personally so sorry that happened to you and your friends. I can only imagine how hard your life must have been to get to this point, and it says volumes about you that you're willing to try and prevent that harm in a stranger's life. I admire that dedication to kindness and truth, so thank you, truly, for the kind intentions you have.

There's a lot here, so I probably won't address it all piece by piece, but I'll mostly say that you're not wrong. I think my biggest clarification I would make here is that the doctrine is not "based" on the Book of Mormon (in all of its imperfections) at all; it's based on the Atonement of Jesus Christ and his Gospel and the desire for our Heavenly Father to have us all back in His loving arms.

But I promise I'm not cherry-picking one detail in order to throw out your entire argument! The modern Church, in many ways, does rely on control of thought and action of its members. Do they usually do it in the name of inspiration from God? Yup. Does that make it any better? Well, depends on whether you believe in that inspiration or not, but I digress. Moving on: the Book of Mormon being both subtly and bluntly racist, even with some of the kindest readings I've seen? Yeah, friend, I know. Its historicity being unsupported by literally all the current scholarly data we have? Yeah, I know that too. The Church actively teaching false racist lies for MANY years, and even today failing to altogether purge them from their members' teachings and hearts? I know about that, too. And yes, there are significant problems with the Church's attitude towards, history of, and rhetoric about native peoples; I'm not denying that. And we're not even gonna start into the mistreatment, mischaracterization, and downright falsities the Church holds onto when it comes to the LGBTQ+ communities; let's just say I am painfully aware, though I would never wish to be unaware of any of the truths you've mentioned.

Long story short, I'm not denying the very obvious problems that have arisen, and continue to arise, from the failures of men (and while I use that term for mankind, let's be honest; it's usually white men anyway) to teach accurately and correctly the doctrine of Christ. My own testimony is not based in blind submission, nor is it a parroting of rhetoric that I have heard. I have struggled with pretty much every single thing you've mentioned or alluded to on this list, and yet I managed, by the literal Grace of God, to come out on the other side with my faith intact; I do not reject the Church for its imperfections, but I refuse to ignore them as well. My faith does not mean I agree with the Church without reservation. My faith does not mean I obey without question. My faith does not mean that I accept, condone, or apologize for the sins of centuries of Christians regarding the role of faith in their lives. All it means is that I have received a witness through the Holy Spirit that, at least for now, this is the place I need to be. That's not based on physical evidence, a rewriting of ugly history/teachings(past and present), or any sort of dedication to imperfect people.

I'm sorry my ranking felt like I was dismissing your concerns or talking down to you; I never meant for either of this things to be true. It was meant to be a playful discussion more than a full refutation of misinformation, but it sounds like I may have failed in both goals simultaneously, and I take full responsibility for the hurt that it caused you.

That's pretty much everything I feel like I need to say in response to your ask, and I apologize again if my somewhat flippant intro put you off; one of my many flaws is that I try and inject levity into many serious situations. But, if you're interested in some critical thinking exercises, I will gladly hit you with a few thought questions:

If we believe in being better than everyone else because of our temple covenants, as you alluded to, why would we have those temple covenants as the goal for every person from all of history? Why would we actively bring others to the temple, both living and dead, in order to have those ordenances performed for as many of our brothers, sisters, and any others that have ever existed*?

If the Church is more of a hate group than "standard religions", why did the scriptural Jesus Christ never preach that hate? Could it be that the Church is a product of imperfection, racism, and misogyny folded together throughout the years, and that even in spite of those glaring problems, 17 million people globally have, at one time or another found a measure of peace and belonging in Christ's teachings from that very Church? That isn't to say that we should accept the Church without judgement; we can do so much better than just 17 million people, especially as soon as we shirk these dangerous ideals taught by the mouths of imperfect men.

Is it possible for good and evil to co-exist in a church, especially this Church? Is it possible that a perfect God can create an imperfect Church? We could go back and forth on relative good done versus relative evil, but that's more a matter of opinion than it is data. But is it at all possible that there are no simple, black-or-white answers? Might I gently suggest that you're falling victim to the same binary good-or-bad thinking that the Church taught you, just now on the side of "the Church is all bad and therefore cannot do good"?

None of these questions are here to say you're wrong; I cannot ultimately make that judgement because I don't know what the Spirit has or hasn't witnessed to you. It could be that you feel the Spirit has told you to completely abandon the Church because of all of its flaws; that's okay. It could be that you deny the very existence of the Spirit and think that I'm fooling myself into staying in a cult; that's okay, too. But you cannot outright deny the witness I have received based on your own witness, perception, or opinion. And generalizing that opinion/perception/witness to claim that I ignore the Church's faults or somehow am an apologetic for them or even that I'm ignorant of them? Well, that's an assumption you made based on your own reasoning, experiences, and thoughts; I can assure you that I have come face to face with many horrors and misdeeds attributed to and caused by the Church, including harmful doctrines and attitudes in my own life and behavior, and frankly I don't expect that I've encountered them all. And yet, for now, I believe.

*: Yeah, there's a very legitimate argument to be made that the temple doesn't let LGBTQ+ people access the same blessings as non-LGBTQ+ members; I totally agree that is a problem that NEEDS to be fixed for us to have any sort of claim of being followers of Christ at the judgement. I am speaking in idealized terms here, for sure, and I recognize that.

[ps-cactus]

Hi HL tumblr! I'm gonna answer some valentines (it's almost April, yes, sue me), anons and ramble a bit 🫰🏻

TL;DR I had a break and I'm not coming back yet because mental health, but I genuinely wish you all happiness and lots of inspiration in doing things you love ❤️

It's been a while and I'm sorry I didn't say anything weeks back but I really had to make a break and needed it right then.

Anxiety works bad with social networks, and when irl things happen to change your rl in a way you don't even feel enough strength for your favourite coping and your fomo intensifies, and it's just... I needed my time in a cave and I'm still not going out for a time being, because I'm just starting feeling a bit better but still have some big irl tasks.

FIRST OF ALL thank you my favourite gang, you know who you are, for being you, for your support and love. You are amazing and deserve the best. I'm so glad to have met you 🥹🫂❤️ I'll keep saying it to you personally FOREVER there is no escape sorry ❤️

VALENTINES! THANK you Lorrain 💖 and Casper 💖 (And Vale 😆) for the cards here 💖 If you wanted to make me cry you really did thank you!!! 😭😭🥹💖

And of course THANK YOU again everyone who reached out in dms and discord that day even though I already was already kinda MIA 💖

And THANK YOU Jo for what you wrote, really I read it five times or so and I love it so much (check out one of my last reblogs!)

ALSO HELLOO lovely Anons! I love you ❤️ seeing this was unexpected and pleasantly surprising to say the least 🥹 Sending many-many hugs!!

Lucy! I saw all your messages, hi! Thank you for all of the kind words! Hugs to you!

THANK YOU to everyone who reached out in other asks and DMs! Every word you put your time and love and support into means so much to me it hurts (in a best way!) 🥹🫶 I truly appreciate you 🫂

THANK YOU to everyone who tagged me in tag games, picrews, and asks! Even though I won't be back to posting at least for a while, it was nice to scroll and see what you have done and what pictures, music lists and stories you shared! 🫶

THANK YOU to everyone who liked and reblogged some old posts, it was fun to see and remember what I used to post once 😆🫶

WELL NO MATTER what might be happening in my rl and any things that might be happening to the game/fandom, I genuinely believe while there are so many people who create what they love and support other creators even when they're mia for eternity lmao no a bad example there will always be a nice place for me and people like me to came back to from their caves 😆😁❤️ once we're a bit more mentally healthy and stable 😅 thank you all for that ❤️

Until we meet here again ❤️

[palelaboratory]

okay so i saw you liked the s.t.a.r.s era post too (it broke my heart honestly) and i have a request/inspo for a fic ??? jill and reader who is also a s.t.a.r.s member in that era. driving back home together while listening to the cranberries, slow days in the office and leaning over others shoulder to helping them win at solitaire on windows nt, fools in love trying to hide their relationship because its the 90s, more jill in her beret i love it so much 😭

thats my thoughts on the post that occupies my brain rn 🩷

۶ৎ Thank you tons for the request anon 💋 I believe it's the same pink heart anon, I love your idea so much. No one can resist lil beret Jill during her STARS years.

۶ৎ I also have been thinkin of what Jill would do in her free time in her lil apartment or just anywhere in Raccoon City. The pictures on her board just tells it all. I guess this is a sign.

۶ৎ Note; S.T.A.R.S era (1996 - 1998), this makes Jill 22 to 24 years old. I'll exclude 1998 because that was when the Mansion Incident happened. Jill will obviously be a little more lively. She was just a girl too. Capcom seriously needs to give us more Jill.

۶ৎ Any form of interaction is highly appreciated, thank you mwah.

The only star I see | S.T.A.R.S Jill Valentine x female reader

Being the only two women in S.T.A.R.S. meant you were wrapped around each other’s fingers. Although not from the start, it was a quiet battle for dominance, both of you vying for each other’s attention without even realizing it. A little too competitive, a little too jealous whenever one of you spent more time with the guys, more than you did with each other.

Now, it was always the two of you against the boys, picking apart their habits, making fun of the way they carried themselves, sharing quiet laughter behind their backs. In a world that rarely made space for you, you carved one out together.

You taught her combat, guiding her movements with steady hands. While she taught you lock-picking and bomb disposal, her delicate fingers demonstrating every intricate motion. You handled her carefully, afraid of hurting her, while she urged you not to hold back, craving more of your touch, more of your time. Fingers intertwined, lingering a little too long. The more she tried to help, the more you seemed to need it, until neither of you were sure if it was still about learning or just an excuse to stay close.

“C’mon, let’s go to my desk.”

She guides you over, letting you settle into her chair before angling the lamp toward the rusted old lock you’ve been practicing on. The glow casts a halo around her as she bends down, her breath warm against your cheek.

“Oh my, I have competition,” She teases, her voice laced with amusement, face inches from yours as she hovers over your back.

She gives away her top-secret tricks, not just to teach, but to be closer, her fingers ghosting over yours, her soft breasts pressing lightly against your uniform. And of course you play along, pretending to be utterly absorbed in the lock when really, you just want to stretch this moment forever.

All in that blue tube top that you chose for her months ago, the one which she kept wearing over and over again, despite your constant teasing.

"Should I get this, or... this?"

"The blue one, matches your eyes."

"That's pretty lame." Putting back the white one while you weren't looking moments later.

"I think I'll wear blue for a change, it's a pretty shade."

Jill with her unshakable sense of self, looking in the mirror for the tenth time as she adjusts her black mini skirt, pacing her apartment, checking her makeup, smoothing a wrinkle that isn't even there, before meeting up with the crew at the bar. Barely sparing the guys more than a quick "hey" before striding straight to you, as cool and chic ever. That calm, knowing smile playing on her lips, somewhere between I know I’m gorgeous and Well? How do I look?

Of course, you pick up on it instantly. Who knows her better than you, right?

"New blush?"

"No..."

"..."

"I really spent $59 on this lipstick for nothing."

Well, who could blame you, she was blushing like crazy for gosh knows why.

And though you sat next to each other, it was never just that.

The intentional stares, the fleeting moments of jealousy whenever one of the guys managed to steal your attention, even if just for a second. As if your bond wasn't already enough, stars of greed, and lust. The two of you, passive-aggressively vying to pull each other back in, scooting closer, asking pointless questions just to force the other to look your way. Shooting subtle (or not-so-subtle) death glares at the guys, neither of you realizing the other was doing the same.

Jill "helping" to tug your skirt down whenever you shifted too much, her touch lingering just a little longer than necessary. You fixing her lipstick in the bathroom, fingers steady against her jaw, until she smirks and offers to do the same.

"Just trust me... and can you please stop moving around?" Her shaking her head at you in disbelief as she holds your waist in place. You shouldn't have had that last drink, you uselessly thought, as your gaze drifts helplessly to her lips. Pretty and tinted, her lips deepened under the dim red glow of the bathroom lights.

She holds your chin, her touch both gentle and commanding, taking an excruciatingly slow time to apply the lipstick. Dragging it over your lips like she’s savouring every second. Like she’s preparing her own dessert.

"The girls are in their own world huh."

"Always are."

A world just for the two of you, locked away from prying eyes. Stolen glances across the office, the silent thrill of knowing what no one else does. A quick pucker of the lips when no one's looking, the playful game of hiding each other’s berets, the quick glance up, instinctive now that you've long since memorized the sound of each other's combat boots, the quiet ache in your chests whenever you’re both dispatched to different locations. Sneaking onto each other’s computers to play solitaire and chess, only to swiftly close the screen and scurry away the second Wesker walks in.

"Maybe move the knight to C3 and- Wesker."

"Shit."

The careful facade you both uphold, the restraint, the professionalism, until you’re finally alone.

Tight embraces, desperate kisses the moment you step through her apartment door, Jill pushing away the boxes on her bed, drowning in each other's overflowing warmth, drawing her in, unlocking each other’s fragile secrets, her lessons were definitely useful after all.

The two of you taking in the other as much as you can, buying silly stickers for each other, although it became more like a silent rebellion rather than just a hobby anymore. Wearing each other’s perfume, as if carrying a piece of the other even on the most dangerous missions. Staying up too late, chasing the night just to steal a little more time together, wearing your dark circles the morning after like badges of honour, paying the price with every scolding from Wesker.

In Raccoon City, where the noise tries to swallow you whole, you embrace each other's silence, presence in itself. In a world that threatens to dim your light, you are the only stars in each other’s sky.

[lav-is-writing]

Howdy I'm back in the building again!

Saw that request were open and Idk if I've already sent this one in or not, but I was wondering if it was possible for you to write the following?

Ronin from Killer Chat with a very touchstarved reader. I think these two being so somewhat attached to each other like this would actually be really cute in a way.

I really adore your writing and I hope that you keep up the fabulous work and just know how much I appreciate everything you do for writing for all your fandoms. Thank you for reading friend!

🔍-anon

Keep Your Hand in Mine

pairing- Ronin x Touchstarved!Reader

warnings- Short :( I'm sorry

a/n- FEIUHF ANON ILY!! YOU'RE TOO SWEET <33

“More, darlin?”

You nodded, continuing to move closer to Ronin. He scoffed from his position on the couch, one hand pulling you closer to him while the other set down the TV remote. The two of you were in the middle of one of your horror movie marathons, but this time, you didn’t care so much about the movie as you did Ronin’s touch.

Since he started to date you, Ronin had learned about the thing you loved the most- touch. Yet, he didn’t pry, giving you what you needed without complaint. You had been caught off guard when he admitted something during one of your cuddle sessions- He loved physical touch. Whether a small peck on your cheek or a lingering touch on your hand, Ronin knew how much you craved it.

It was one of the things that made him love you so. 

Countless nights spent snuggling you as you slept, helping you fall into unconsciousness and relieving Ronin’s fears of you leaving him. No one could hurt you while he held you. He made sure of that.

In public, it was a bit more difficult. When a stranger brushed hands with you, you tensed, looking at Ronin for guidance. He would help you through it, apologizing for the stranger and making a note to find them if they were rude about it. Simple touches like that were enough to cause panic, and even Ronin wasn’t always spared from that. 

Hugs could make you wince, so Ronin would put his hands up as he approached, nodding at you as if to ask if you were okay with it. For the devil, he was surprisingly gentle with you, understanding your problems. 

And when the day came where you accepted touching without warning?

He's estatic.

Still a bit hesitant, Ronin asked you repeatably: "Are you sure, darlin'? Don't want you to feel pressured into this."

You always said yes.

“I’m here, don’t worry, darlin'. You don’t have to let go.”

Extra headcanons since this is short:

If you wanted to seek professional help with your problem, Ronin would be completely supportive of it. If it helped you feel better, he was quick to find the best person he could find.

Massages became a part of your daily routine, preformed by Ronin in order to help you relax. The second tension left your body, he was beaming silently, proud that he was able to help.

a/n- okay but he's just a little guy :3

[kneecapsbelong2me]

Hello! Ok so you don't have to do this if you don't want to but I thought it'd be really cute if you did a oneshot where Natasha and Wanda (or it could be Natasha and Maria no preference) help a fellow Avenger (reader) who has ocd (like intrusive thoughts and having to squeeze eyes shut hard and doing things in a certain rhythm, not cleaning ocd). And the reader stopped taking her meds. Could you do fem reader please if you're comfortable! Thank you! Much love! xoxo 🧡

Loud

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x OCD!fem!Reader (ambiguous relationship)

Summary: when you stop taking your meds, your intrusive thoughts return with a vengeance. Natasha and Wanda notice.

Word Count: ~800

Content Warnings: violent intrusive thoughts (murder, blood), OCD

A/N: sorry this took so long, anon! I don't have OCD, but I have dealt with intrusive thoughts so I tried my best.

Translations: зайчик: bunny; рыбка: little fish; солнышко: sunshine

———————————————————————

Wanda was the first to notice something was wrong. Your thoughts sounded like screamed gibberish instead of their typical cadence and anxiety radiated from you in waves as if it was flowing from your pores.

She didn’t know what was happening, and it scared her. Unsure of what to do, she confided in Nat.

“I’m worried about her, Tasha. Her thoughts have been so loud and messy, and I don’t know what to do. Just being near her makes me start feeling antsy.”

Natasha had also clocked your unrest. For the past month, the number of pills in the bottle on your dresser had remained constant, and Natasha was willing to bet that had something to do with the changes in your behavior.

“I’m concerned too, Wanda. Let’s talk to her the next time we see her, okay?”

“Okay,” Wanda smiled slightly. “Thank you for helping me with this.”

“Of course, зайчик, I want to make sure our girl is okay.”

They waited, but you didn’t come out of your room for days. Finally, at the 72 hour mark, Natasha and Wanda made their way to your room. They were going to help you, and there was nothing you could do to stop them.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your thoughts had gotten bad again. Maybe it had started after you stopped taking your meds, but they had made you feel different.

What if you just kill them all. It wouldn’t be hard.

You squeezed your eyes shut as if that would stop the thoughts, rocking back and forth. Three counts forward, three counts back. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Ring, middle, pointer. Ring, middle pointer.

Images flashed in your mind. Your hand wrapped around Natasha’s throat. Blood dripping from the knife you drove into Steve’s heart.

On your next rock backwards, you accidentally hit your head on the wall as you tried to shake yourself free. Pain reverberated through your skull, and you couldn’t help but think you deserved it.

And those were just the thoughts that escaped to your consciousness. There were so many more beneath the surface, trying to claw their way and pierce through your brain.

You shivered, your skin crawling as more thoughts popped into your mind. Your rocking became more frantic as your breaths got shallower and shallower.

The click of your bedroom door unlocking tugged your mind back into your body. You squeezed your eyes tighter, and your finger tapping sped up.

“Рыбка?” Natasha’s voice filtered in like sunlight through a stained-glass window, muddled but warm.

“Солнышко,” Wanda’s voice was much clearer. She was speaking directly into your head, you realized. “Your thoughts are so loud.”

Oh no. Wanda was going to find out how horrible your thoughts were. Terror gripped you as you realized what she would see. There was no way she’d ever look at you the same way again.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” Wanda smiled softly. She had crouched down, and you could sense how badly she wanted to reach out to touch you.

You shook your head, too caught up in your hyperventilation.

Natasha sat on the floor next to you, careful not to touch you or get in the way of your rocking. “Try breathing out for longer than you breathe in,” she murmured. You did as she said, some of the terror leaving you. “You’re safe. Everyone is safe.”

You tried to focus on her words, blocking out everything else until your senses were filled with Natasha and Wanda.

“These thoughts do not make you a bad person, солнышко. The fact that they scare you proves that you’re a good person,” Wanda’s voice washed over you like a wave of calm.

Your breathing evened out a little more, your fingers tapping slower. Ring. Middle. Pointer. Fighting every muscle in your body, you forced your eyes open to look at them.

Guilt wracked your body as you took in their concerned faces. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Natasha spoke gently, but firmly. “Hey, look at me. Please?”

You did as she asked, having to slow your rocking to avoid getting dizzy.

“Is it okay if I touch you right now?”

You nodded, and Natasha pressed her shoulder into yours. The contact was soothing. She was warm against you. Warm and alive.

“Would it help if we just talk for a while?” Wanda sat and leaned into your other side.

You nodded again, words unformed on your tongue.

“Okay. Let me tell you what Steve did the other day.”

Natasha launched into a story and you focused all your energy on her words. You could feel Wanda pushing your anxieties down, and for the first time since you’d stopped your meds, you felt calm.

You laid your head on Wanda’s shoulder. She hummed softly and carded her fingers through your hair. Your eyes fluttered shut, but this time they rested.

You knew they would want to talk about this at some point, but for now you were content to sit in between them and rest.

[butterflydm]

heyo i hope you enjoyed the new wheel of time episode! i am looking forward to reading your breakdown of everything, as i love your speculation and comments. so i was wondering what are your opinions on moiraines fate? do you think she'll still get doorwayed or that they might just fully kill her?? there has been a distinct lack of the red doorway/other terangreals in rhuidean so it got me Thinking but i really really hope they keep her book-fate lol

I loved it, yeah! Thank you for asking! I'm glad you're enjoying my breakdowns. <3

I love those chapters of TSR a lot and this episode did a fantastic job bringing them to life.

As for Moiraine... yeah, it's a tough one.

My personal inclination is to feel that she's going to get "doorwayed" but it might not be in the manner that we expect. I do think if we hear Mat get the "half of the light of the world" prophecy 3x08, that means for sure Moiraine isn't dead-dead, even if she appears to be. If he doesn't get that prophecy, then she's probably dead-dead.

Either way, I do feel like both Lanfear and Moiraine will be cleared from the board at the end of the season, to give room to the other Forsaken in s4, to give Rand time to grow into leadership, and to give him time and space to fall in love with Aviendha & Elayne without worrying that Lanfear is going to terrorize or murder them in their sleep (since they are not dreamers like Egwene, so might not be able to protect themselves from her).

Whatever happens seems like to involve that super-powerful sa'angreal that's taking the place of the female Choden Kal. idk

We know there's a doorway in the White Tower -- is Moiraine somehow able to return there to fall through the doorway in the 13th Depository? It is a Mystery for sure, anon.

I am inclined to thinking that she won't die-die, but we will see!

[lukolastrong]

Did you like the pictures? No? Me neither. Luke is always so lost and scared. Antonia probably doesn't have her own clothes or is that homeless style supposed to hide her? If this theory is true that Luke doesn't end relationships and is super unhappy, then public pictures might help this relationship fall apart. Or maybe they'll make it stronger.

I'm Lukola but I don't live in a bubble which is wrong. And if more pictures are needed to stop people from talking nonsense, we'll take more pictures…

By the way, I'm not Tif and I'm not A either.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts anon ♥️

Poor Luke looks so sad and uncomfortable in the pictures. I’m not understanding her outfit choice either but let’s not judge. At least she looks comfy! None of us know him enough or irl to make that conclusion. What is there to make stronger? They don’t even look like a couple let alone like they’re in love. I’ve talked about this before and will stand by it, *Luke uses body language in every situation he’s in. His body language is loud in the pictures.

There’s different kinds of Lukolas on the ship and that’s ok. There is no bubble though. There is no “fantasy” land we live in. There’s only real life and that relationship isn’t real. **It’s all pr. Another hill I will die on.

Thanks for clarifying you’re not either of them, that made me chuckle 🤭

* my post where I explained how he uses body language to convey his feelings

** my post where I talked about why their relationship is pr

[altacctforastarion]

Hey! Love your Astarion works! I was wondering if I could request a nsfw fic of Astarion and the reader 69ing? I was reading through your recent headcanons and it made me realize I’ve never seen an Astarion fic including that before. Thanks for considering my request! :)

Hey anon! Thanks for requesting, I’d actually thought about writing a fic including it so thank you for the excuse! I set this post-game, I think it’d be neat if Astarion could be a magistrate again (I know nothing about magistrates/dnd legal systems tho so it’s vague as HELL), so like y’all have a cute lil house in the city and Astarion is a late night magistrate. Just for fun. Also:

I think 69 only happens when he’s not the dominant one tbh, any other time I think he wants to see you while he goes down, so he just won’t let you, but if you’re in charge he lets you decide. And if you decide you want him whimpering while he pleases you, he whimpers while he pleases you 🤷🏻 so here is Sub!Astarion 69ing!

Warnings: 18+ obvi, mdni, oral sex (both receiving), Sub!Astarion, 69ing, blood drinking during sex, slight praise kink (he receives), you’re a super soft dom, AFAB reader, no pronouns for you and no use of y/n. Not edited at all, please tell me if there are any awful typos

Edit: forgot about tag list:

@lotus-ignis @astari0nsju1ceb0x

If you want to join the list dm/reply/or leave a note in my inbox!

Astarion was quiet, sitting up in your shared bed with a book on his lap and a scowl on his face, he’d barely spoken since he’d returned to your home from work, giving you a tired, half-hearted smile and a “Hello, darling” and then having a long bath with a glass of wine. You’d given him space, waiting in the bedroom for him to come to bed.

When he’d joined you, wearing only underwear and a silk black robe, he’d kissed you, a simple peck on your lips, and then picked up his book, reading in his unusual silence. He doesn’t like to talk much when he’s had a bad day, both because of a need for decompression, and because he doesn’t want to give himself an opportunity to lash out at you.

It had only happened once, and he’d only given a snarky reply to a question you’d asked when he got home, an apology on his lips as soon as he realized what he’d done, but since then he’s been careful, calming himself before he tells you all the details, relaxing at least a little before he allows himself to interact with you how he usually does.

You keep yourself busy with your own book, until you hear him close his book and speak, agitation coloring his tone, “Someone lost all of my paperwork before I got there, and it was a pain to find them. Everyone I dealt with today was an idiot, and there I was, in charge of all of the idiots with my lost paperwork. And now I’m home, with you, and I still feel that weight instead of relaxing. Come here, would you?”

You put your book on your nightstand and move over to him, going in for a cuddle but he pulls you to him and kisses you, gentle at first but then there’s hunger, his tongue pushing into your mouth. He pulls you until you’re on top of him, his hands on your hips, and the kiss breaks as you adjust, your legs on either side of him. An idea hits you, as you look down at him, at his tired eyes and the tension that lingers on his face, “Would you want to change how we do this? You could just lay back and let me take care of you?”

He looks surprised at first, and then it’s masked by flirtatious confidence, “How sweet of you, darling. How would you “take care of me”, exactly?”

Your skin flushes, and he eyes your neck, watching the blood go to your cheeks, “We don’t have to, I just… when I was leading back then, right before we fought the brain it was nice when you made the decisions in bed, I just did what you wanted and let you have your way with me. I thought maybe I could do that for you? If you want to. If not I’m perfectly happy with-“

“You avoided my question. How would you take care of me, if I allowed it?” You catch the word allowed, and realize he’s not teasing you, not trying to pull dirty talk from your lips, he’s being cautious. He’d been used and abused for years, all while retreating into his mind and he won’t have that happening again. No, if you have control over him it’s because he let you, not because you took it, and no matter how much he loves and trusts you he needs details.

“I’d use my hands, or my mouth, or maybe both on you, and when you fucked me we’d do it like this, with me on top and you can just lay there and let me. I’d tell you beautiful you look under me,” You move down, his face in your neck and your lips to his ear, “I’d let you drink from me like this, while I’m on top of you, and maybe you’d be inside of me. I’ll do whatever you want, Star, you can just ask and I’ll give you anything. You can relax and let me please you, the only work you’d have to do is drinking from me.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, and when you move again, so you can look at him, and he looks significantly more interested in your offer. “You’ll stop if it’s too much? If I don’t like it?”

“Of course, same as always. If you aren’t enjoying something let me know and it stops right away.” You reach for his face, cupping his jaw, “We don’t have to do this either, it’s all for you, what do you want?”

“I..I want you that, it would be nice to stop thinking for a bit. Have your way with me, love.” He says the first part tentatively, but he’s smiling flirtatiously when he finishes speaking, and you smile back at him, eager to start.

You climb off of him and remove your clothes, urging him to do the same, and he teases you about your eagerness, telling you if you wanted a taste of him so bad you could have simply asked, laughing when you throw your shirt at him in response.

—

Astarion’s gasps are constant, in time with every time you let him into your throat, his hips bucking against your hands that are keeping him mostly still. He’s deep in your throat when his hands bury themselves in your hair, your name coming out in a low moan before he speaks, voice hoarse, “D-darling,” He cuts himself off with another moan, followed by a curse as you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock and look up at him, “Darling- oh, gods do that again.”

You’d hollowed your cheeks, sucking him into your throat on a slow descent, your tongue licking at the underside of his cock, and when you repeat it he whines, high in his throat, and his hands pulls your hair lightly. He lets out a shaky breath when you pull back, letting his cock slip free from your mouth, and looking down at you with a vaguely scandalized look on his face.

“You were trying to say something, I didn’t want to distract you. What were you about to say, Astarion?” You smile, and he glared down at you.

“I was going to say I wanted to return the favor, but then you decided to be a devil.” Dramatics aside, he still looks down at you with want.

Your hand ghosts over his cock, fingers trailing up and down with light touches, just to watch him squirm, enjoying the redness on his face afterwards, and you continue with your teasing touches while you speak, “You want me to stop doing this? Or were you asking for that after this?”

“I- gods I don’t know. Don’t make me choose, you’re in control tonight.” His eyes flick away from yours, and you can sense giving up that control is difficult, he’s making an active choice to leave things to you.

Not wanting to give him time to linger, you lick a stripe up his cock and take him into your hand as you feel his thighs shake just slightly. You stroke him slowly, your grip firm as you contemplate, feeling the ache of your untouched cunt. “I saw a painting at a brothel once- don’t ask, I won’t tell you. A woman was on top of a man, using her mouth on him while he used his on her. Would you want to try that? It’s completely fine if not, but if you don’t you’ll have to wait to return the favor, I’m not done with you yet.” You finish your sentence with your thumb circling the head of his cock, and he lets out another low moan, whispering your name like a curse afterwards, like it’s the only thing in his mind. His head has fallen back on the pillow, and you can see as his eyes close, his lashes fluttering against his reddened skin.

You continue to stroke him as you wait for a reply, and you speed up when his hips buck up, a little high-pitched sound leaving his throat before he speaks, “You’re in charge.” He says it like he can barely force out the words, lost in the pleasure you’re providing. He makes a needy sound when you let go of his cock despite giving you the okay to change things up, and you can’t help but to lean down and lick up his cock again before you move to get into the position you’d described. He gasps, and his hips chase your lips but you’ve already moved away with a smile at him, at the desperate look in his eyes as he looks at you.

—

You breathe out a little laugh as you attempt to get into the foreign position, feeling a little silly at how you’re moving while you arrange yourself. And you hear him sigh, amused, “Can’t you take anything seriously?”

He helps you get your legs on either side of his head and when his breath ghosts over your core, you lose your humor, a little gasp leaving your lips. “Is this ok? Are you comfortable?”

He doesn’t respond verbally, instead you feel his hands on your hips, and then he pulls you down, his tongue delving into your folds immediately, none of the normal teasing as he licks you with fervor, his moan matching yours as he tastes your wetness on his tongue.

You let yourself drop to your elbows, a hand coming up to move his cock before taking him into your mouth, feeling him moan against you, the vibrations stimulating your clit wonderfully, you begin to move your head, and you feel him move his head before his tongue pushes into your entrance, and your hips move on their own accord, grinding down on his face before you catch yourself. His cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop as you lift your body up. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful!”

He sounds starved when he answers, pleading, “Please do that again.”

You flush again, and hesitantly lower your hips to his face, listening to him moan when he returns to his task, his tongue entering you, and you slowly, carefully, grind down on his tongue, a moan ripping from your throat at the feeling of it inside you. You do it again, just as slow before he pulls your hips down and rocks your cunt against his mouth with force, before letting you go, a clear indication of what he wants from you.

You take the suggestion as you take his cock back into your mouth, letting your hips roll against him with a little less fear of hurting him, and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. You fuck your own throat with his cock, rocking forward to take it in deeper and rocking backwards onto his face after, and you feel the little sounds he’s making against your cunt even though you can’t hear them.

You hear the loud whimper he lets out when you focus on the head of his cock, feel how his tongue falters in its movements for just a second when yours laps at him. He won’t last long like this, and you fight the urge to ask him if this is how he’d like to cum, reminding yourself that you’re in charge. You decide you want him to cum inside you instead, and you pull off of his cock, a loud whimper coming from him, “Will you make me cum, love? Then I’ll ride you while you drink?” You lift your hips up slightly, to give him the option to refuse or voice his approval, half expecting him to just pull you down again.

“Please let me?” He pleads, his hands gripping your hips.

“Let you do what love?” You ask, confused, your hips lifting up a bit more, and his grip gets tighter as you hear him whine.

“I want you to cum like this, please. Use- use my mouth.” He sounds desperate for it, like he wants nothing more, not even bothering to acknowledge the rest of your proposition.

You let out a little moan, loving every little bit of his desperation for you, and lower your hips again. He sucks at your clit greedily, tongue flicking against you and you moan and you lean down to lick at his dripping cock, little tongue flicks that match his, and you feel his whimpers as you let him back into your mouth.

You get close quickly, moaning around his cock and rocking back on his face, feeling and hearing the desperate sounds he makes against your pussy. You feel his tongue enter you again and that’s all it takes, crying out as you cum on his face, letting his cock fall out of your mouth, licking at it while you recover.

He doesn’t stop immediately after he’s worked you through it, and you gasp and twitch from sensitivity, lifting your hips up and feeling his tongue chase you.

You move off of him, your wobbly knees making it difficult but he helps you, until you’re on the bed next to him. Your hand cups his jaw, the other going to his curls, playing with them, “Are you alright, love? How are you feeling?”

“Like you should have shared your brothel knowledge sooner. Kiss me, please?” He asks, already reaching for you. You give him what he wants, of course, laying down next to him and letting him pull you in for a kiss. His tongue briefly dipping into your mouth, your taste on his tongue, before he breaks the kiss. “I’d like to be in you now, if that’s ok?”

“Of course, Star.” You kiss him again, for just a second before straddling him, his cock wedged in between his stomach and your pussy, “You’re doing great for me, my love. So fucking good, just for me.“

Astarion’s face flushes again, “Yes, yes. Now get to it.” After a delay, and the twitch of his cock giving away how much he enjoys the praise, he amends, “Please, darling?”

You lean down to kiss him as you line his cock up with your entrance, and your tongue enters his mouth as you sink down on him, swallowing his groan. His hands go back to your hips, and you have a new idea, “Would you like for me to hold you down? I could hold your hands?”

“If you’re gentle, we can try it.” He looks a little anxious, but excited, and you’re slow as you go for his hands, your fingers sliding in between his when you’ve moved them to the bed on either side of his head. You apply light pressure, and rock down on his cock, before riding him slowly, just a few thrusts to see how he feels about your new position. He attempts to move his hands, you barely let them raise an inch before they’re back against the bed, he groans, “Gods, yes, that’s good. I like that.”

“So good, Star, letting me try new things on you. So pretty.” You praise, before you start riding him, and the angle has his cock hitting that spot inside you on every thrust. You gasp as you start to speed up, and he lets out a little whine. You watch his eyes close, lost in his pleasure, and his hips buck against you occasionally, his cock pushing into you just right.

You wait until you’re both getting close before you let go of his hands, and his eyes open in surprise, but you just smile at him and cup his jaw again, “Would you like to drink from me?”

“Please.” His voice comes out in another whine, and you lean down, pulling his head and upper body up towards you as you continue to grind on his lap.

You’re so close, and when his fangs pierce your neck, you cum, gasping from the sensitivity as you continue to move on his cock, and you feel him moan against your neck as you clench around him.

He hips thrust up into you while he drinks, before he shudders and cums, and you feel him lapping up the blood that spills freely while he’s distracted. You stay on his cock, petting his hair while he finishes drinking from you, his cock slowly softening inside you.

When he’s done you start to move off of him, to get clean and help him do the same, but his arms wrap around you, his face still buried in your neck, “Stay, please?”

“Of course, my love. Are you alright?”

“Just you, like this.” He breathes in your scent deeply, his lips on your lightly bleeding pulse, “Thank you for this, love. I..I really needed it.”

“Thank you for trusting me, beautiful. I’m glad it helped.”

[twopoppies]

Hi, Gina!

It’s been a while.

I anoned back in October when Liam passed. I was a mess, and you provided a space for me to vent and grieve. You will never know how much I appreciate you. I decided to take a break from social media, which was a sentiment you supported, and I’m so glad I did. I’m in a much better headspace now, but I’m back, and what a welcome home I’ve gotten.

Glad to see the media is steady trying to prove L & H aren’t gay as fuck for each other. It doesn’t seem I have missed much lol.

Kind of digressing here, but I’m convinced TikTok is the worst thing to ever happen to our fandom. It’s most definitely responsible for the resurgence of the “Cristobel Riley” nonsense and a lot of the rumors about Harry and his 200 girlfriends.

And I stg, if I hear one more thing about Duplicity, I’m going to spiral. No, I’m not going to read it. Don’t have anything against the author or the fic, they are just barking up the wrong OTP tree lol.

Anyways, just wanted to get on here and say thank you for your service to our “Larry Organization”. Love you!

Xoxo

HAHAHAHA! Yeah, I don't know what is up with TikTok and that fic. But the het Harries are VERY vocal over there. There are so many gross edits of him (I mean, he's very sexy, but I really don't need to read explicit comments about what happens in your underwear when you think about him, thanks).

I'm really glad to hear you're feeling better, and no, you haven't missed a thing here. Sadly. But the Larry Organization is holding strong! LOL!

[pe0ple3ater]

uh… more etoiles!

i’ve been mulling on this for a while, but remember in purgatory, when the teams drew for members? imagine etoiles wrapped in chains, the french beast taken down. so many islanders would find it utterly erotic…

and then imagine pac, surveying the options, pausing in front of etoiles. there’s a chain around his neck that pac would tug on, smiling sloooowly… the power rush and ideas he would get…

- ✒️

Okay I need to explain before you read this, I got carried away with the idea of some of my fav ships in this scenario. So it turned into this idea from Pac, Roier, and Phil's povs...hope you enjoy anyway

Roier: Etoiles is the only one of them chained, because he’s their leader and dangerous. Roier is the first at his side, tugging uselessly at the chains. He watches how they tighten around Etoiles when he pulls, and the sight of the imprints they leave makes heat flare in his stomach. He stands by his side and snarls at anyone who gets too close like a wild animal, though he can’t help but eye the way Etoiles legs are forced to be spread just a little, and he can’t deny how good a collar looks around his throat. He stands closer and sees the hunger in some of the Islanders eyes. He understands them, Etoiles looks fucking phenomenal tied down in chains. The binds cross his chest and highlight his pecs. The leaders of the red and blue teams are given some time to look over green team before they're forced to make their picks.

Pac: he likes having Etoiles tied down when they sleep together so this is just flooding his mind with similar images. The chains look really nice on him, and his muscles flex and strain with every tug. The wild anger in his eyes is sexy, Pac wishes Etoiles was a cruel man sometimes, so that he’d really rip Pac apart. When they get to go closer to them all, Pac grabs at the chain around his neck and the way Etoiles’ barely bites back a growl has Pac getting a little hot under the collar. He places his hand on Etoiles thigh, and notes the way Roier bristles at his side, and slides it up just a bit. He tugs again on the chain connected to his neck and Etoiles breath hitches, eyes losing some of that anger "I hope you end up on my team" he'd mumble, and then walk away to go check on Fit.

Phil: he’s obsessed with the sight. Etoiles is fighting against the chain and snarling like an animal and Phil feels bad for him but also it’s incredibly erotic to see how much it takes to keep him down, not to mention the sounds he’s making are animalistic and do something to Phil’s head. When he walks over to see him closer, Etoiles whines at him and tells Phil he’s sorry, he didn’t want to fail. Phil tells him that Etoiles will be able to make it up to him, not to worry. He tugs lightly on the chains and coos softly at the way Etoiles arches to try and get Phil to touch him. Phil runs his hand up Etoiles calf and feels the twitch of his muscle under his hand. Etoiles strains against the chains and Phil feels heat curl in his stomach. He'll have to get Etoiles on his team and held down in chains, soon. It'd be a good way to remind Etoiles who owns him after he killed him the first day, Phil thinks Etoiles could use the reminder.